


Soldier

by hammer



Category: Nymphomaniac (2013), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, Biting, Blow Jobs, Cock Bondage, Collars, Coming Out, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Esca with a K, Face Slapping, Fist Fights, Flogging, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Torture, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Riding Crops, Rope Bondage, Safewords, Self-Hatred, Spanking, Submission, Whipping, clothespins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hammer/pseuds/hammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>K had a reputation for being violent, and Marcus was desperate to regain something he'd lost along the way. If pleasure and pain were really two sides of a same coin, then maybe K could help Marcus find his way back to the former through the latter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen Nymphomaniac Volume II, you should know that Jamie Bell plays K, a male dom who does not use safewords. Marcus (cast as Joe here) is fully aware of this, hence the "consensual but not safe or sane" tag.
> 
> Thanks to my beta Abbeyjewel. Any remaining mistakes are purely my fault.

Marcus walks into a small drab room. There are two women sitting on folding metal chairs, a dead potted plant between them. Marcus clears his throat. They don't so much as glance at him and keep staring at the cracks in the cinder block wall or the scuffs on their shoes. He takes the closest seat, the worn chair creaking under his weight and the shrapnel in his leg making him wince in pain. He had expected some major awkwardness and he is not disappointed. Marcus can't help wondering how these women found their way here.

Without the Marine Corps, without the adrenaline rush he'd come to love more than anything, Marcus had been adrift. He'd tried to use his injury as an excuse to settle down and it had worked for a short while. He'd moved in with Cottia, a woman he thought he loved, but monogamy had left him feeling as empty as sleeping around. Maybe love –the so-called secret ingredient– and all its traditional trimmings were not for him after all.

Almost as soon as he'd entered his relationship with Cottia, Marcus' ability to climax had all but mysteriously disappeared. He enjoyed satisfying Cottia in other ways, but they both knew something was wrong. He still possessed a libido; he _knew_ , because he was able to get aroused when imagining certain scenarios. He didn't know where one got his sexuality from, or where tendencies of this kind came from. Maybe it was a perversion created in his childhood that never manifested until now.

As there was nothing wrong with him physically, Marcus had consulted a sex therapist who'd recommended spicing things up in the bedroom. When he told Cottia about the fantasies he wanted to fulfill, he learned she found the idea of blending sex and violence revolting and had no intention of participating. After a few weeks however, she announced she was willing to let him explore that facet outside their relationship in order to save it. His _own_ girlfriend had suggested he should hire a professional dominatrix.

Even though Cottia had given him her permission, Marcus could feel she already resented the time he spent researching BDSM online, learning the basics and figuring out what he might be interested in trying. When he contacted a couple of women who were willing to dominate him, it drove an even wider wedge between them.

The first visit was awkward and disappointing. Marcus had wanted to start with something he felt was harmless. It indeed _was_. And that was the problem. He liked how the leather collar felt around his neck, and there was something alluring in being at someone's feet, but pet play didn't really rev up his engine like he thought. Maybe with the right person holding the leash... Marcus had ended up dropping his plastic bone on purpose, just so he could get the spanking he'd been threatened with. That part was more exciting, but Marcus already knew this wasn't what he was looking for.

The second visit was a bit more satisfying, but not quite up to Marcus' expectations. He really enjoyed the flogging, but he wished the dominatrix would have pushed him further. He's not an innocent boy, he's a soldier who's been through hell and back and got off on it. All the same, the mistress preferred to err on the side of caution and take things slow. It sounded sensible, of course. But since when had Marcus done the sensible thing?

To avoid the strain on their couple, he would put off his visits to the dominatrix as much as possible, keeping them to the bare minimum. As a result, though his forays into the BDSM world had been partly successful, they hadn't brought him the satisfaction he craved. Marcus felt he had become obsessed with chasing a spark that rarely grew beyond a simmer.

Then, by pure chance, Marcus ran into Sophie, a former lover of his. Marcus had confided in Sophie, who suggested Marcus try something a bit different, something more drastic, considering Marcus had been such a thrill seeker all his life. Sophie knew how to contact a man called K. K mostly saw women, but he had been known to accept a man from time to time. Marcus defined himself as mostly straight but the idea of having a man dominate him was strangely appealing; it's taboo, new and exciting.

K had a reputation for being violent, and Marcus was desperate to regain something he'd lost along the way. If pleasure and pain were really two sides of a same coin, then maybe K could help Marcus find his way back to the former through the latter.

So, here Marcus is, sitting in a shabby room with perfect strangers. After only a few minutes of waiting, Marcus notices a blurry shadow moving behind the door, pulling him back to reality. The knob turns, and a woman comes through, but Marcus doesn't even see her because she's followed by a young man: _K_.

He's a few inches shorter than Marcus and a few years younger. He has short dark blond hair, an aquiline nose, high cheekbones and steely gray eyes. He's wearing a plain gray shirt and black jeans; a long way away from the latex and leather Marcus had gotten used to. Marcus doesn't know what he'd expected; maybe a bulky bald man in leather chaps, or a rough looking dude with tattoos, but not a young handsome guy who belonged in one of those high fashion Burberry ads. K looks at the two women first, but it's Marcus he addresses.

“Who are you?” K asks coolly.

Marcus takes note of the British accent. “I know what you do. I'd like to be one of the people you see,” Marcus explains tentatively. K shakes his head minutely as Marcus speaks.

“That's of no interest,” K tells him, already turning away. “Madame,” he calls. A pretty blonde in a fur coat goes through the door, and Marcus notices that she avoids looking K in the eye.

Marcus shifts nervously on his seat, but he doesn't get up. He has to insist; he can't leave at the first rebuttal. Maybe it's a test. Maybe K is trying to assess how badly he wants it. Whatever _it_ is.

Shortly after, another woman comes in. She stares at the floor as she scurries to the chair next to Marcus. He can practically feel the anxiety that emanates from her. His eyes are drawn to her hands, as she wrings them nervously on her lap, then Marcus spies lash marks on her legs. If Marcus still held any doubts he'd come to the right place, they had just evaporated. The fluttering in his stomach intensifies, and he feels himself blush slightly.

It doesn't take long before K returns to let the blonde out. Marcus wonders what happened back there and why it took so little time. K notices the newcomer right away, and steps up to her.

“Princess, I specifically said five days, and five days haven't gone yet. So... you'll have to leave. I'm sorry.” K doesn't sound that sorry, but he doesn't sound exactly angry either. For a few seconds, Marcus thinks she will protest, or insist. But no, she gets up and leaves, never raising her gaze to the man.

K is standing with his hands on his hips and says to Marcus, “You're still here? I, um... I don't think this is for you.” Then he disappears behind the door with the last woman.

This time, it takes almost an hour before K comes back with the brunette. Marcus keeps his eyes down, waiting for the woman to exit before looking up. He's alone with K and nerves twist his gut in a familiar manner. Why is this man making him feel this way?

“You are beginning to irritate me,” K says, arms crossed, frowning slightly at the floor. Marcus is silent. K eventually looks up to study him, and Marcus looks back at him trying to show that he _wants_ to be here.

“Stand up,” K commands suddenly. Marcus' heart leaps in his chest and his pulse quickens. _Yes_. That's the feeling he's looking for.

Marcus stands up, K takes the chair he was sitting on and places it in the center of the room. K doesn't ask him to sit back on it so he waits, like a good soldier. K walks around Marcus, surveying him thoughtfully.

“Take off your jacket, put it over there,” he asks, pointing at the other chairs. Marcus does as asked, and he shivers in the poorly heated room. Marcus swears he can feel K's gray eyes on his skin. He wonders if K likes what he sees. Marcus had kept himself in top shape despite his injury, and he gets appreciative looks from men and women wherever he goes. Maybe K will ask him to take his shirt off.

“Sit down,” K orders. Marcus sits down, the pain in his leg forgotten in his excitement. He's a little disappointed he wasn't asked to get naked. “What makes you think I'd let you in?”

“I was told you sometimes take on a man. I just thought it would be worth a try,” Marcus answers truthfully.

K stares at him, one hand in his pocket, his gray eyes calculating, as if he's trying to figure Marcus out just by looking at him. He seems to finally make a decision.

“I just want you to sit completely relaxed... while I hit you in the face.” K pauses, giving Marcus time to process the words. “Nothing special. It's just a slap.” K's voice is low, almost gentle, and every one of its intonations makes Marcus' groin tingle pleasantly.

Marcus looks around nervously, his heart racing. K steps up to him; Marcus stills. “Are you ready?” K asks.

“Yes,” Marcus answers, lifting up his chin and closing his eyes.

K grunts as he slaps Marcus _hard_ across the face, making his head snap to the side. Marcus gets back into position, gasping, shocked by the force of the blow. Marcus has to repress a flinch as K shifts his weight back again. The slap Marcus expects doesn't come until he's almost sure K will not slap him again.

K hits him even harder this time, and Marcus bends at the waist with a groan from the impact. His cheek stings, a blend of adrenaline and endorphins rushing through his veins. Marcus has to consciously hold back from hitting K. He'd never felt this impulse when women hit him. Marcus could probably knock K out with one blow. But he's here to submit and he means to do it completely. He shifts on his chair, sitting upright once more as warmth spreads to his groin. K waits for Marcus to straighten up, hands clasped before him.

“Let me tell you the rules then,” K starts quietly. “First rule is that I don't fuck you, and there isn't any discussion about that.”

That's the standard arrangement, Marcus tells himself. “Wait. How much is this going to cost me?” he inquires as his left cheek throbs.

“Nothing. I will not take money from you.”

“Then, what do you get out of it?” Marcus asks, tilting his head.

“That's my business, and I don't want you to mention it again.”

Marcus opens his mouth anyway, but K narrows his eyes at Marcus and the question dies on his tongue. _No money_. So, this is K's hobby, not his day job. _Okay_. Marcus can roll with that.

“The second rule is that we have no safeword. Meaning, that if you go inside with me there is nothing you can say that will make me stop any plan or procedure,” K adds.

Marcus tries not to frown at this. K's tone of voice is casual, but Marcus knows that the second rule is _not_ standard. It's dangerous, and agreeing to it would be reckless; the idea just makes more blood flow to Marcus' groin.

“You must bring a brown used leather riding crop, and not one from a shop selling sex toys. It's not a masquerade,” K continues. “Third rule: If I choose to let you in, you have to be sitting out here. In other words, you won't know when. Only that it will be sometime between two and six at night.”

“I can't stay here that late. My job...” Marcus tries to protest, but K is leaving already. “You don't even know my name!” Marcus shouts, sounding more desperate than he intended. K turns around and pokes his head through the door.

“I'm not interested in your name,” the young man tells Marcus, as if the tidbit of information bores him to death. “Here, you're...” K looks up in the air, as if searching for inspiration in the discolored tiles of the ceiling. He looks at Marcus again, giving him a last once over that sends another wave of heat through Marcus. “Here, you're _Soldier_ ,” he decides before shutting the door.

Marcus blinks at the shrinking blurry form behind the glass door. How had K known he was military, Marcus wonders. Then he realizes that his t-shirt sleeve isn't quite covering the bold U.S.M.C. underneath the Marine Corps tattoo on his bicep, and that the outline of his dog tags are visible through the thin material. K isn't psychic, he's just very observant; no mysteries there.

Marcus exhales and collects his jacket, leaving his chair in the middle of the room. When K leaves, he'll have to put it back, or walk around it. Either way, Marcus wants K to be reminded of him.


	2. Chapter 2

The following Thursday, Marcus sits in his car for twenty minutes, in front of the warehouse, debating on going inside.

 _You're as reckless as your father_ , his mom had said to him when Marcus joined the Marines. His mother was right of course; his father – and the entire squad he led – had mysteriously disappeared on a mission abroad. Even though no one knew for sure what had happened, the blame had fallen on Marcus' father. “The Gold Eagle”, as he'd been nicknamed, became the “Lost Eagle of the 9th Marines”. No matter how many times Marcus had heard the embellished story when the name Aquila was mentioned, he never got used to it, and his comrades knew better than to bring it up.

 _You're reckless, you'll get yourself and your brothers killed_ , his Staff Sergeant had shouted at him more than once. His Staff Sergeant had been mostly right. Marcus hadn't gotten his brothers in arms killed, but he had gotten badly injured trying to save them. His little stunt had earned him a Purple Heart, a Bronze Star Medal, and a honorable discharge followed by what seemed a lifetime of pain and boredom. Marcus found out the hard way that restoring honor to his family name didn't bring him the fulfillment he'd hoped for. The pain in his leg had quickly become the only thing that reminded Marcus he was still alive.

He glances back, eying the parcel in the back seat. Buying the riding crop had been a strange adventure. Marcus can't help smiling to himself as he remembers the look on the sales lady's face when he'd been unable to answer her questions about his supposed horse. To top it all off, he had insisted on a used crop, even though the woman swore the price was about the same. Marcus was pretty sure she knew the whip wasn't for a horse by the time he left the store. He doubts she knows the crop is to be used on him, that he's planning to bend over for another man and...

He'd been thinking of little else beside K since he had met him. The anticipation, the _not_ knowing what K would do to him, and the fact that K wouldn't stop even if Marcus _begged_ had him hardening in inappropriate locations more than once. The embarrassment that accompanied the erections hadn't dampened his arousal, it only made it worse. Or better. His cock stirs again as he thinks back on this, and Marcus finally throws all caution to the wind. He's come this far, he has someone covering his shift at work, he has the crop. He grabs the brown paper wrapped package from the backseat and heads out. _Reckless indeed_.

Marcus enters the depressing waiting room at two o'clock sharp. No one dares talk and the atmosphere is still uncomfortable. The only sound in the room is the whirring hum of the fluorescent lights, the monotony broken only by the occasional clearing of a throat and K's quick appearances to call the next person in.

Marcus has to wait as each woman is called inside before him. He's not sure if it's a good or bad sign. But deep down, Marcus doesn't mind, because he's _in_.

“Soldier...” K eventually calls.

 _Finally_.

Marcus follows K down a long corridor lined with identical doors, his excitement growing. K picks a door and holds it open for Marcus.

The room is bigger than Marcus expected and much more comfortably heated than the shabby waiting room. It only contains a couch, a few chairs, a desk and a locker. It doesn't look like any dungeon he'd seen, and that only makes Marcus more curious.

“I'll take your coat,” K offers. Marcus takes his jacket off, still holding the wrapped riding crop. Marcus didn't know what he should have worn, so he had settled on a tight t-shirt that showed off his chest and blue jeans that hugged his ass. He has no idea if K is attracted to men in this manner, but Marcus feels a need to impress and please K nonetheless.

“Should I take my clothes off?” Marcus asks as K hangs his jacket.

“I'll tell you what to do, and when,” K explains quietly. “You may sit down.”

K sits behind his desk, right across Marcus, making him feel like he's here for a job interview. Marcus places the riding crop in front of the younger man for inspection. K unwraps it and studies it pointedly, then he sets it aside, seemingly satisfied. Marcus feels relief at K's wordless approval of the crop, but he worriedly stares at it, biting his bottom lip.

His attention snaps back to K, who gets a rope from a drawer. He walks around the desk, then sits on top of it, looking down at Marcus as he toys with the rope.

“Give me your hand,” K orders. Marcus offers his hand to K, who turns it over before tying the rope around his wrist. “I wanna see what this knot looks like on your wrist,” K explains, looping the rope into an intricate knot. When he's done, he loosens the knot to slip it off of Marcus.

“You may get up,” K says. Marcus follows him then watches as K moves an armchair into the center of the room “Now you may bend down.”

“How?”

“Approach the chair,” K directs patiently. Marcus steps behind the chair. “Now bend from the hips.”

Marcus does as asked and waits. He's a bit startled when K pulls his legs back by the ankles, shifting his weight forward. He keeps his palms flat on the cushion, and tries to look back at K.

“Look forward, with your head up,” K tells him, his fingertips touching the sides of Marcus' head, gently turning it. “Head up. Keep looking forward,” K repeats. Marcus takes a deep breath and tries to be still.

K grabs duct tape from the desk and slams the drawer shut. The noise makes Marcus jump and he turns around to see what K's doing. “Keep looking forward,” K reiterates, his voice devoid of irritation. K stands behind Marcus for a few seconds, examining him, holding the roll of tape in his hand.

“You may stand up,” he suddenly says. Marcus pushes off the armchair obediently and waits as K moves the chair back against the wall. “We have to use the couch,” K announces. “Come.”

Marcus shuffles off to the couch – a sad threadbare thing on the other side of the room.

K must have noticed the tension in Marcus' body, because he touches Marcus' arm lightly and whispers “Take it easy. Bend over.”

Marcus bends over the side arm of the couch. “Get up.” K says almost immediately. Slightly disoriented, Marcus gets back to his feet. K looks down at Marcus' jeans. He reaches out and lifts the t-shirt with one hand, then he slips his index finger inside the waistband, pulling on it. Marcus' stomach quivers under the unexpected touch. “These are too tight. Hard to pull down. Wear sweatpants next time.” Marcus doesn't bother answering out loud, he nods and files that away for later.

K steps back. “Pull them down. Mid-thigh,” he says tersely.

Marcus' blood pressure spikes; he undoes his button and zipper then pushes the jeans down his legs. Marcus works out religiously, including his legs - despite the pain - and he knows the muscles of his thighs are strong and well defined. He feels K's gaze linger on his bare skin, then K crouches at Marcus' feet. Marcus holds his breath as K traces the line of his quadriceps with two fingers, dipping once more inside his jeans to pull them down a bit more. Marcus knows why; he waits for K to ask. People _always_ ask about the scar.

“Is this why you limp?” K inquires.

Marcus is surprised. Most people don't notice, especially when Marcus works this hard to hide it. “Yes. Battle wound. There's still shrapnel inside my leg.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Why? To ask you to take it easy on me?” Marcus half-scoffs. “Besides, I didn't think you'd be interested.” Marcus is surprised at his own tone of voice, but he sees K's lips curl into a small smirk, and he knows he just scored some points; toward punishment or clemency, Marcus is not certain.

“Fair enough. All the same, do you have any other serious condition I should be aware of?” K asks.

The concern seems out of place for K, and Marcus appreciates it all the more. _I can't get aroused unless I'm in pain, and even then I can't maintain an erection long enough to come_ is what Marcus wants to say, but that's not what K's asking. He shakes his head instead. “That's it. Perfect bill of health otherwise...” he tells K who then gestures for Marcus to lay down with a wave of his hand.

Marcus settles on his elbows, and flinches when he feels K lifting the hem of his t-shirt to look at his back. “I would prefer that you didn't see anyone else,” the young man says.

“What?” Marcus grunts, frowning deeply.

“The flogging marks on your back,” K explains.

“That's none of your business,” Marcus grouses.

“If you come back here with marks made by someone else, I'll ask you to leave,” K warns in a matter of fact tone, letting go of the t-shirt.

Marcus huffs. “I understand.”

“Good. Lay your arms out straight,” K directs.

Marcus stretches his arms in front of him and exhales loudly, pressing his face into the worn leather. K places a wide canvas strap flat over his back. Marcus gasps loudly; he knows what K means to do. Marcus has never been restrained before. He'd been reluctant to try it, but K isn't asking him what he wants. Marcus could probably break free, push K off and leave now. But he doesn't want to. He wants to take this to the end, even if he's scared. Especially because he's scared.

“Take it easy. Take it easy,” K repeats before slipping the end of the strap into the ratchet. Marcus whimpers softly as he's flattened into the cushions as K cranks the ratchet until the strap is snug. Next, K nudges Marcus' feet wider apart, fastening his ankles to the feet of the couch with duct tape that K cuts with his teeth. K walks away to evaluate his handiwork. He clears his throat then gets a length of rope out of his desk.

“Bring your hands out straight. Palms facing each other.” K loops the rope around both of Marcus' wrists, using the same knot he'd tested earlier.

The rope fibers feel a bit rough against Marcus' skin, contrasting with K's soft warm fingertips. When K tugs the knot experimentally, Marcus hides his face in the inside of his arm as his body is flooded with heat. “Take it easy,” K whispers soothingly with a small pat on Marcus' hair. K then affixes the rope to the feet of the couch. When that's done, K takes a couple of steps back and surveys Marcus' prone body from a distance.

Marcus can only imagine what he looks like. A young Marine, a decorated soldier, bent over a decrepit couch in a derelict warehouse, with his pants down and his ass up, hoping to get a whipping. He pulls on the rope and tries to wiggle out of his bounds, but the knots, the strap and the duct tape are holding him fast. He's immobilized, unable to leave or defend himself, utterly at K's mercy. Whereas the other doms had maintained that Marcus was always in control, here with K, Marcus has no power at all. In that moment, Marcus knows it makes all the difference in the world, because despite the fear, he's half-hard.

He glances sideways; even from where he is, Marcus can see that K's breathing is heavier now. The young man looks _aroused_ , his gray eyes having grown darker along the way, and Marcus doesn't miss the heat in his gaze. Marcus had never paid much attention to the effect his little sessions had on his doms; realizing that K is getting off on seeing him helpless turns Marcus on even more.

K grabs the crop from the desk. He places it on the couch, in front of Marcus' face, handle first, and leaves it there. Marcus had been whipped before, yes, but never with an implement like this. It had been with a flogger made out of wide, soft leather strands that warmed the skin and stung, but without really biting. Marcus stares at the crop with a growing sense of foreboding.

K is behind Marcus when he speaks next. “Next time, don't wear underwear,” he advises before pulling the boxer briefs down, baring Marcus' ass. He fetches scissors from his desk and cuts the briefs right off of Marcus, the cold metal making Marcus shiver as it slides over the skin of his hips. K throws the ruined underwear with the crop's wrapping paper on his desk.

K retrieves the crop from the couch and Marcus makes a shapeless noise, burying his nose into his shoulder as sweat beads on his brow. He's still reluctant, yet perversely excited, eager even. He's aware only of his heart beating hard in his chest, the bonds he's in, the lust that radiates out from his groin, and K who's standing just out of sight. He wishes he could rut into the couch, but K had cleverly positioned him, and there's nothing there to provide relief. He's ready. He _wants_ this.

K paces back and forth behind him, fidgeting with the crop. “Your ass is not high enough,” he says with hint of regret. “I don't think we can do this today.”

“What?” Marcus asks breathlessly.

K ignores the question and slips his hand under Marcus' pelvis, his hand cupping his cock and balls before running his thumb over its tip. The touch is quick and to the point, but it makes Marcus groan through gritted teeth. K checks the amount of precum on his digit. “I'd like to see you again on Thursday,” he announces.

Marcus turns his head in time to see K writing “Soldier” on a tag he attaches to Marcus' riding crop.

“What's wrong?” Marcus asks, still stunned.

“I think we should see how it goes on Thursday,” K repeats as he hangs the crop in a locker next to others like it. Marcus doesn't insist; K had made up his mind.

Next, K cuts the tape off with scissors, then he unties the rope. He removes the strap also, then he holds Marcus' jacket and waits for Marcus as he pulls his pants back up. By now, Marcus' cock is soft again, and Marcus is bewildered, frustrated and angry all at once. K had already shown he was observant, he should have known the furniture here wouldn't be adequate.

Of course, it's possible that K is doing all this on purpose, to toy with him. All the same, Marcus ignores K and grabs a pen and paper from the desk. K watches curiously but doesn't say or do anything to stop him. Marcus lets K help him into his jacket before handing K the piece of paper.

“To avoid further confusion,” Marcus tells him. K reads the note; all of Marcus' measurements are on it, from his shoe size to the girth of his biceps, from his height and weight to the size of his cock.

“See you Thursday,” Marcus chirps, leaving K standing alone in his room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, I have followed the Nymphomaniac plot quite closely. In this chapter, I'm starting to take liberties. I really hope you enjoy it.

By the following Thursday, Marcus realizes the additional wait is working wonders, and his annoyance and dismay at K's sly little tricks melts away to give place to trepidation underlined with lust. Every second he can spare is spent thinking about what's coming, and he finds himself even more worked up than last time. Except this time, he's more eager than scared.

When Marcus is finally allowed to come in, his cock's already semi-hard. K takes his jacket, then bids him to wait. Marcus watches as K moves a phone book from a shelf to the top of the couch arm where he's supposed to bend over. K steps aside and points at the couch, his gray eyes roving over Marcus' body, zeroing on the bulge in the front of his pants. Marcus' cock twitches under the scrutiny.

Before settling down, Marcus hooks both thumbs into the waist of his sweatpants to pull them down, but K stops him, reaching out and seizing his forearm, his grip warm and strong. “No. I'll be doing that from now on,” he whispers. Marcus nods, his cock filling even more from the contact, then he bends over the couch when K lets go of him. The book provides extra height that forces Marcus to arch his back and pushes his ass up.

It doesn't seem to be enough though, because K retrieves yet another book from the pile across the room. “Raise yourself up,” he demands. “Even further,” he says, sliding the book under Marcus' pelvis. He steps back, evaluating the height. “Better.”

K snatches the crop from the locker and deposits it in front of Marcus. The young soldier stares at it, jolts of nervous excitement criss-crossing his gut as K cranks the strap over Marcus' back. He tapes his ankles; this time the sweatpants allow K to spread Marcus' legs even further apart, and K is pleased about that too. Marcus is still on edge, but he finds surprising comfort in K's series of actions done in the same order as last time. K completes the ritual by tying the ropes around Marcus' wrists. It's already Marcus' favorite part; he gets to feel K's skin on his own, and he can watch K's face as he works, his handsome features screwed up in concentration and the movements of his deft fingers deliberate and precise, obviously well practiced despite his young age.

When K's done with the rope, he pats Marcus' hand lightly. Marcus is fully hard now, in expectation of pain he hasn't experienced yet, his body preparing for an intercourse that Marcus knows won't happen. K walks around the couch, pulls Marcus' pants over his ass, and then checks on his arousal. Marcus doesn't care if the hand cupping his genitals belongs to a man; the touch feels like fucking _heaven_ and he wants it to last. It's over too quickly.

“Also much better. So much better,” K comments, his tone downright cheerful. It's far from the young man's usual aplomb, and Marcus blushes at the scrap of praise.

Marcus' heart sinks, and sudden panic floods his whole body when K picks up the crop and walks out of sight. “I am now going to hit you twelve times, no matter how much you scream, 'cause no one can hear you down here,” K announces solemnly.

Marcus looks back, breathless, his forehead now damp with sweat. He sees K roll up his sleeve, and whatever comfort Marcus felt moments ago is gone, fear bubbling to the surface again. He pulls on his bonds, breathing more harshly by the second as his heart palpitates. K lightly brushes Marcus' ass with the tip of the crop and raises his arm. All the anticipation of the past weeks comes to a head, and Marcus cries out.

K stops his motion; he brings his arm down to his side without hitting Marcus. “That's not how it goes,” he says, approaching Marcus again. “Most people don't scream until I hit them," he mocks, clearly amused.

Marcus sees the smirk on K's face, and is embarrassed by his outburst. He really thought he'd handle this with a bit more dignity. Marcus decides he prefers to look forward, just as K had urged him to do so many times. He breathes in and out and braces himself.

K gets back into position and aims again, the leather tongue tickling Marcus' right ass cheek, and this time he does strike. The crop hits Marcus' ass with a loud smack that echoes off the walls. Marcus barely makes a sound; he grits his teeth, and breathes through his nose as pain slices through him. The second blow falls below the first, drawing the exact same restrained reaction from Marcus.

Marcus bets K isn't smirking anymore. He hits Marcus a third time, marring the other cheek with a purple line of its own, finally extracting a whimper from Marcus. He immediately strikes again, no doubt expecting more noise from the soldier, but Marcus remains silent but for his panting.

Marcus receives the fifth blow, the raw pain making his whole body shudder. He holds his breath and pulls on the rope; it tightens and bites into the delicate skin of his wrists, but he barely notices. His ass is on fire, and his cock is rock hard with no hope of direct stimulation in sight. He gasps when K lays down the sixth lash. It's the heaviest blow yet, or at least if feels like it to Marcus, and he wonders if K is trying to beat a better reaction out of him.

Something starts to shift inside Marcus. He feels a little dizzy, and his ass throbs in time with his groin. He relaxes and stops pulling on the rope, the blood flow returning to his hands. He lays his cheek on the couch and closes his eyes.

The seventh blow sends sparks of pain and pleasure through Marcus who lets out a small breathy groan, uselessly trying to rock his hips as his cock bobs between his legs. The reaction seems to give K pause, as he hesitates before whipping Marcus an eighth time.

K puts more force into the next three blows, each time eliciting the same delightful noise from Marcus' lips, something between a grunt of pain and a pleased moan.

K finishes with the hardest blow yet; Marcus's lower body shakes uncontrollably, but he takes it silently as he breathes in and out deeply.

K steps back, chest heaving from the effort. “That's it,” he declares, slightly out of breath.

Marcus wipes his sweaty temple against the sleeve of his t-shirt, then looks back at K. “Thank you,” he says evenly, as if his ass hadn't just been whipped so hard he wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for days.

“You're very welcome,” K says, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, holding the crop. He waits a minute before laying down the crop to pick up the scissors from the desk. Marcus watches from the corner of his eye, expecting K to release him from the duct tape, but the young man simply stares at Marcus' battered ass. Marcus bites down on a gasp when K's fingertips slide up his inner thigh, then along the crease where his ass meets his thigh. He hears K hum and it fucking sounds like pure sex to Marcus' ears, and he craves more of K's touches. More than anything, he wants K to wrap his hand around his cock and pump it until Marcus spills his seed all over the side of the couch. Marcus bites his lip and waits, hoping...

But K removes his fingers, and finally cuts the duct tape off. Then, he slackens the strap and pulls the phone books from under Marcus, carelessly throwing them on the floor. Finally, K unties the rope from the couch's feet; the other end of it is still around Marcus' wrists when he crawls forward onto the couch, his erect cock deliciously rubbing against the worn-out leather.

“Soldier,” K calls out quietly. Marcus raises his head to look at the young man. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Hump the couch,” K answers with his hands on his hips.

“But I...” Marcus starts. He wishes he could explain. He's brimming with lust, his cock is achingly hard and Marcus wants to come. Or at least he wants to try. _Now_. Before it slips away.

“Remember. I tell you what to do and when,” K reminds him. His tone is neutral, without a hint of anger, and carrying no threat. Yet, Marcus gets the sense that he shouldn't push his luck.

“Yes, sir,” he sighs, turning to his side. Of course it means there's no more pressure on his erection, but it also means his leaking cock is exposed. It sends an unexpected thrill up Marcus' spine.

K kneels down and starts working on the knots around Marcus' wrists, the young Marine wriggling and stretching his body, making use of the whole length of the couch. Marcus feels his cock twitch when K's fingers still as he sneaks a long look at it.

“Did I do well?” Marcus inquires as K returns his attention to removing the rope.

“Very,” K answers with conviction.

“Still thinking this is, uh... _not for me_?” Marcus asks, glancing down at himself meaningfully.

K smirks. “I don't think I've ever hit someone this hard without them screaming. You deserve a medal, Soldier.” K walks to his locker and produces a bottle of water that he hands to Marcus.

“S'okay,” Marcus mumbles between two sips of water. “Got some already.” Marcus knows K was saying this in jest, but it was an opening for Marcus to slip some personal information in the conversation. For unknown reasons, Marcus impulsively wants K to know the real him.

“Oh yeah? Which ones?” K asks, the interest in his voice making Marcus' heart flutter.

“Purple Heart. Bronze Star,” Marcus recites.

“I know about the Purple Heart. What's the other?” K inquires.

“It's awarded for acts of heroism in a combat zone,” Marcus explains.

“Your leg?”

“Yeah,” Marcus answers. He sighs. His legs are still shaking, his arms seem made out of jelly. “Do I have to go?” he asks, hoping he doesn't have to move yet.

“Eventually. But there's no hurry. You can stay for a bit. There's no one else waiting.”

Marcus can't help but wonder if K lets others relax on his couch before they leave. He hopes he doesn't; he hopes he's special. He lets his cheek fall flat on the couch cushion, and tries to keep his eyes open but fails miserably. He hears K step away from him, probably to go to his desk and put things away. Eventually, K nudges his shoulder, pulling Marcus out of his drowsy spell.

“Time to go, Soldier,” K announces, smirking. Marcus rouses himself, unsure of how long he'd been lying there, and carefully slides off the couch, K just a step away. He wavers when he gets up, and K pushes his palm over Marcus' sternum, holding him steady.

“Hey, are you alright?” K asks with evident concern in his gray eyes.

Marcus nods. “Yeah. I just... I'm ready to take a nap,” he says with a huff. What a goddamn waste of an erection, he thinks to himself as he pulls his pants over his now flaccid cock. K helps Marcus into his jacket and holds the door for him, turning off the lights behind them.

Marcus and K walk down the hallway side by side. Marcus can't wait to come back. He has no problem standing in line for _this_. He wants to make more room in his life for _this_. For _K_.

“Tomorrow, bring fifteen small coins. All the same,” K states as they near the door. Marcus nods, his stomach giving a lurch. Tomorrow. _Fuck_. “No more, no less,” K stipulates before opening the door for him.

Marcus is too elated that he won't have to wait another week to wonder why the hell K wants him to bring coins to their next meeting.


	4. Chapter 4

Marcus doesn't have enough coins in his wallet. He has to sift through the contents of the jar he and Cottia fill with spare change. He dumps all fifteen nickels into a plastic bag and slips them in his pocket. He feels guilty that he's yet again going to be gone when Cottia comes home, but it does little to stop Marcus from meeting K today.

Marcus is the last to be called in. _Again_. He finds consolation in the fact that he's seen K just yesterday, but it doesn't mean he's not anxious to find out what K has planned. Two women are waiting with him that he's never seen before, and Marcus draws satisfaction from being the only one of yesterday's group who had been asked to show up today.

“Soldier,” K summons. The call makes Marcus' cock stir and Marcus is in awe he's aroused by the mere promise of pain he already associates with the young man's voice.

Marcus thinks he probably imagined the ghost of a smile playing on K's lips when the young man received the bag of coins. K places the nickels in five neat piles on his desk. Marcus watches as K puts them in a leather glove before slipping it on, making sure there are three coins on the tip of each of his fingers.

By now, Marcus has figured out what K means to do; he swallows thickly as he remembers the strength of the slaps K had given him when they first met. Marcus is startled when K suddenly slaps the desk, the coins hitting the wood with a loud thwack that speaks volumes of the wicked impact those hits will have, thanks to K's little enhancement.

K invites Marcus to get up and stand in front of him. Marcus tenses and his blood starts to pump faster. K holds Marcus by the shoulders, rolling them for him in an attempt to release some of the tension, and then places him exactly where he wants him. He slips a gloved finger under Marcus' chin, lifting his head a fraction.

There's a short moment where K just stares at Marcus, his gray eyes dark and unreadable, then without warning, he slaps him brutally. Marcus takes a step sideways as his head swivels to his right. He represses the instinct to defend himself. He also represses the desire to touch his hardening cock through his pants. K steps away, tipping his head back and exhaling loudly, like this was particularly good for him.

Marcus can tell K's not quite done yet, so he turns, and faces K squarely, his cheek already bruising in round patterns. It's an added bonus that K isn't standing behind him today, making it possible for Marcus to get a good, long look at him. The young man's chest is rising and falling in quick succession, his lips are slightly parted, his cheeks now pink and his eyes almost completely black. Marcus would bet he probably looks similar. He glances down to examine the front of K's jeans, but K cups his chin forcing him to look forward.

K waits. The more he waits, the more Marcus anticipates the next slap. Pain still lingers on his cheekbone, and he knows the second blow will be worse than the first. He wills himself still, breathing in deeply and exhaling through his mouth, eyes locked with K's.

He recalls K's words back then. _It's just a slap_. This is different, but not only because of the added weight of the coins. The current mood can only be described as _sexual_. As he stands here, two feet away from K, Marcus can feel the electricity between them, like an endless loop feeding off their excitement.

Being restrained had been a thrill and receiving the punishment without being bound proves to be equally thrilling. Marcus takes the punishment not because he cannot walk away, but because he _wants_ to take it.

Marcus cries out and stumbles back when the glove viciously comes into contact with his face again. The pain is sharp, and Marcus, for a second or two, sees white in the corner of his left eye. He brings his hand to his abused cheek, hisses in pain, and then leans on the desk with both hands, breathing hard and slightly dizzy. His cock tents his pants, precum soaking through it. He's startled when he feels a chair being nudged against the back of his legs.

“Sit down, Soldier,” K says, his voice unusually hoarse.

Marcus lets himself fall into the chair, grateful to get off his shaky legs, even though his ass is still sore from the beating it received yesterday. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, letting the adrenaline rush run its course. He flinches when he feels K's fingers on his cheek. Marcus reopens his eyes and watches as K caresses his bruised cheek, his fingertips light as feathers and his lips curved into a small smile.

The touch sends goosebumps crawling over Marcus' skin, reminding him of the way his skin feels when suffering from a high fever. He wishes K would keep touching him like this. Down his neck, and over his shoulders, his chest... But to his disappointment, K steps away.

“Please,” Marcus whispers before he can stop himself. The quiet plea stops K in his tracks, and he looks back at Marcus, tilting his head with amusement in his eyes.

“Yes?”

Marcus is mortified. He hadn't meant to beg out loud. “I, uh...” he stammers. What is he supposed to say? This man has seen Marcus in much more compromising states than _this_. He opts for the truth. “I was hoping you'd touch me more...” he murmurs quickly. K makes a soft huffing sound, and Marcus averts his eyes to stare at his feet uncomfortably. Of course, K would find his request ridiculous.

“Take off your shirt,” K says. A stunned Marcus lifts his head and stares at K with a slack jaw. He'd expected K would brush him off and end the session. “Well?” K snaps impatiently when Marcus doesn't obey him promptly.

“Oh, uh, sorry, sir,” Marcus mumbles as he pulls his t-shirt off, his lower abdomen fluttering wildly. He doesn't know what to do with his shirt once it's off, so he just squeezes it nervously on his lap, until K snatches it from his grasp and throws it on top of his desk carelessly. His gray eyes rove over Marcus' upper body appreciatively, then they zero in on his chest.

Marcus watches in fascination as K reaches for him, brushing his left nipple with the side of his finger. His cock visibly jumps between his legs at the intimate touch, and Marcus can tell that it doesn't escape K's attention.

K drags a nail over his nipple; It doesn't really hurt, it's just more intense, and Marcus sways his hips with a groan. “Be still, Soldier,” K murmurs. The quiet order spoken into Marcus' ear makes him shiver. He grasps the edges of his seat and holds them tightly, because how else is he supposed to stay still?

K steps closer to touch Marcus' other nipple. It's a soft caress, up and down strokes, until the pink nub hardens. _Fuck_. Since when had his nipples been so damn sensitive? It's like there's a live wire connecting them to his groin. He hums and squirms in his seat as K works his nipple into a hard peak.

“I said be still,” K reiterates sternly.

“Sorry. I can't...” Marcus breathes, looking up at K. “Help me,” he begs. K's elusive smirk flashes on his lips. He produces a long white rope from the locker and shows it to Marcus. There's a short moment where Marcus feels he has the option to walk away. But his legs won't move. Hell, he doesn't want to move.

K folds the rope in two, then proceeds to tie a simple harness around Marcus' upper body. He binds Marcus' biceps to his torso, with turns above and below his pectorals, and one over the back of his neck.

He gets the roll of tape from his desk. “I was going to use rope on your hands and feet too, but there's no time,” he says regretfully, as he straps Marcus' ankles to the legs of the chair, over the fabric of his sweatpants. He also tapes his wrists together behind the chair.

The neat rows of pristine white rope frame Marcus' well developed pectoral muscles, making him feel like his chest is on display.

K walks around him, eyes sweeping over Marcus' body. “You look good like this,” K comments, running his thumb over his chin. “Maybe one day I'll make you strip and tie you up from head to toe, then watch you struggle right here on the floor,” K muses in his ear, standing behind him. “Would you like that, Soldier?” he whispers as he pets Marcus hair.

“Yes, sir,” Marcus answers, turning a deeper shade of pink as he imagines the scene.

K's hands slide over his broad shoulders and down his front until he finds his nipples again. Marcus tips his head back, K allowing him to rest his head against his abdomen.

K captures one nub between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it until pain flickers across Marcus' chest. K switches sides, giving the identical treatment to his other nipple, squeezing, then releasing it, sending flashes of pain through Marcus that immediately transform into sparks of pleasure that rush to his erection.

K pinches, pulls and twists Marcus' nipples in various patterns, each time hard enough to provoke a reaction from the soldier. The wet spot on his crotch grows wider as K continues his harsh treatment of Marcus' nipples.

“You're really loving this...” K murmurs from above. Marcus can only nod his answer. Marcus doesn't know much about K, but one thing is for certain, K enjoys it when his subs are sexually aroused by the pain he inflicts. “Such a good little pain slut... A good little soldier... My soldier...” K says, punctuating the words with particularly rough pinches that make Marcus buck on his chair.

“Yes... Yours...” Marcus gasps.

When K finally lets go and steps away, Marcus is panting, reeling from the constant stimuli and exhausted from fighting against the rope and the tape. If K had continued, Marcus thinks he would have imploded from all the pleasure that had built up in his lower abdomen with nowhere to go.

K cuts through the tape to free Marcus, then he unties the rope. He offers Marcus a bottle of water and tells him to wait in his chair. Marcus sips the water as K busies himself by cutting lengths of rope from a medium size spool on the desk. Marcus counts nine short ropes.

“I sometimes give a Christmas present, but you have to do the work yourself. I'm going to show how to do it,” K explains. He walks around the desk, sits on top of it, then loops the rope on itself four times as Marcus watches. K pulls both ends of the rope, the loops tightening into a knot with four distinct rings. “This is called a blood knot. You have to make nine ropes with three blood knots each. Let me see you do it.”

Marcus obediently takes a rope from the desk.

“You decide whether to make four, five or six turns, on the various knots,” K continues, sitting back down in his chair, and distractingly chewing on his finger as Marcus makes his first knot. He already has some experience with knots from the military, and he easily executes the task.

“Let me see.” K takes the rope from Marcus, pulls on it to tighten the knot, then looks at it critically. “It's fine,” he comments. “If you start with one knot at the top of the rope like this, then you have to make two more knots at a distance of...” K pulls a ruler out of his desk; Marcus automatically wonders if he ever uses it to spank people. “Well, between ten and twenty centimeters to be exact,” K says after carefully measuring the rope. “But the most important thing with the blood knots on the nine ropes, is that they are placed differently and that they are staggered,” K emphasizes.

Marcus uses the ruler to place the knots, still half-naked, cheek bruised and nipples raw from being teased mercilessly. Amazingly, his mind is blank, and he finds it easy to concentrate on his little project. It also takes his mind off his cock, which isn't straining against his pants anymore, but is still half-hard.

“The cat-o-nine tails is often called the _Captain's Daughter_ aboard ships. The blood knots are important because those are the ones that break the skin and not, as erroneously thought, the end of the ropes,” K informs Marcus, who suddenly understands what the exercise means. K is allowing Marcus to choose the size of the knots that will break his skin. How very devious.

“ A gallows knot is also a kind of a blood knot, with many turns. The American military standard demanded five to fifteen turns, as it was the turns placed behind the left ear of the delinquent that would break the neck of the condemned as he fell,” K rattles on as if he has a PhD in knot tying through history. It doesn't really surprise Marcus; despite his young appearance, K's methods are surprisingly refined.

After a quiet moment where Marcus finishes tying all the knots on the nine ropes, K rises. “I'll take it from here,” he announces taking the ropes from the desk. “You may leave.”

Marcus puts his shirt back on and K, ever the gentleman, helps him into his jacket.

“I hope to see you next Thursday,” K says.

“On Christmas?”

K nods, the corner of his lips curling up. “I'll have a present for you. Two, if you're good.”

“Good how?” Marcus asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Refrain from ejaculating,” K explains casually.

“What?” Marcus asks even though he's pretty sure he heard right. Is K really trying to dictate when Marcus should come?

“It's simple. Refrain from reaching an orgasm, until Thursday.”

“Well, that won't be hard...” Marcus says derisively.

“Oh?” K says with a frown. “Why would you say that?”

“I haven't been able to...” Marcus, embarrassed, runs his hand through his hair and clears his throat.

“You seem quite capable of it from what I've seen,” K counters, referring to Marcus' almost constant erection while K tends to him.

“Yeah well, that's when I'm with you,” Marcus replies, blushing at the admission. “I've tried other people before. It worked, but not as much.”

“Interesting,” K muses, tilting his head to the side. “You'll do as I ask, then? For me?”

“Yes, Sir. I will.”

**

That night, Cottia wakes up when Marcus slips into bed. They haven't seen each other in two days. They usually at least cross paths between three and five o'clock, when she comes back from work and before Marcus has to leave for his. But Marcus had left early both days, to meet with K instead.

“Hey,” she says, turning to her side and reaching for Marcus' face in the dark. She finds him and cups his face to pull him into a kiss. Marcus hisses and pulls away. Worried, she turns on the lamp and sees the dark, oddly shaped bruises on Marcus' cheek. “What happened? Did you get into a fight at work?” she inquires.

They had agreed that Marcus wouldn't tell Cottia about his little escapades, unless she decided to ask questions. “No,” he murmurs, picking a piece of lint from the sheet.

“Then, what...” she starts before realizing what probably caused the bruises. “Marcus, you shouldn't let her hit you in the face. You can't go around looking like this.”

Marcus doesn't care what he looks like; he is illogically proud of wearing K's marks on his face. It's like having his dirty little secret exposed without having anyone see it for what it really is; no one, except K. It's like a bond they share. For a second, Marcus considers telling her everything, but he decides he will keep it to himself after all. He has no desire to be sermoned about K's rules. He already knows that the lack of safeword is risky. He certainly doesn't want to talk about the fact that K is a man.“You're right. Sorry,” he mumbles, trying to sound repentant.

Cottia sighs. She reaches out and pets his other cheek, leaning in and kissing him. “Where have you been?” she asks in an attempt to change the subject, not knowing that it's all related to K.

“Work.”

“I called there, they said you were coming in later,” she tells him.

“Yeah, I switched with Lutor. He needed to leave early.” It's only partly a lie. Marcus had switched shifts with his co-worker and friend Lutorius, but instead because Marcus himself needed to come in later. Marcus knew Cottia would not approve of him wasting hours waiting to see K.

She snakes a hand behind Marcus who groans in pain when she squeezes his ass. “Fuck...” he hisses. She lets go and shifts, her thigh pressing against Marcus' now half-hard cock. She presses harder, feeling it grow harder under her touch.

“Hmm, whatever she's doing, it's working...” she whispers before kissing him again.

Marcus sighs. “I can't...”

“We can try. Come on, baby.”

“No. I'm not supposed to...” Marcus tells her.

“Says who?” she asks with a frown. Marcus just presses his lips together and lowers his gaze. “You've got to be kidding me,” she snaps.

“We can do something else,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her neck, but Cottia pushes him back and slinks away from Marcus, retreating to her side of the bed.

“Babe...” he pleads.

“Don't bother, Marcus,” she spits, turning her back to him and pulling the covers over her shoulder.

Marcus turns over onto his back and lets his head fall back on the pillow with a frustrated sigh. Cottia doesn't understand. He _could_ try; K would probably never know. But Marcus would know. And if there's a chance that delaying his release might actually help in the long run, then why risk it?


	5. Chapter 5

Not very surprisingly Cottia's manner remains cold and distant for the rest of the week. She's always needed time to process new information, so Marcus leaves her be.

It's already Christmas day. They have dinner plans at her parents' place later tonight, so Cottia offers to cook a light lunch. Marcus opens a bottle of red wine, hoping Cottia is ready to talk things over and give him a chance to explain the situation in depth. However, she keeps the conversation mundane, until she casually mentions she'd ran into Lutorius the day before, and that he had interesting things to say. Marcus doesn't ask what his friend said. If Cottia had questioned him about their recent shift changes, Lutor had surely told her the truth and she now knows Marcus lied. The rest of the meal is spent in relative silence.

A bit later, Marcus is sitting on the couch, sipping another glass of wine with his girlfriend. He can feel her eyes on him as he stares into the flames in the fireplace.

“Are you fond of me still?” Cottia asks as she sits on the sofa next to her boyfriend.

Marcus nods, keeping his eyes on the fire. “Yes.”

“More fond of me than the others?”

“What others?” Marcus asks, turning to her.

“Those _women_ you see,” she says, disdain dripping from her words. Her tone of voice bothers Marcus. It's as if Cottia thinks his doms – and him too, by association – are not deserving of respect of any kind.

“There are no women,” he says.

“I've seen the marks, Marcus. Don't lie to me.”

Marcus sighs. “There's only _one_ other, and he's a man.”

Her eyes widen. She obviously hadn't expected that, but she quickly regains her composure. “Alright. Are you more fond of me than him, then?”

Marcus nods again.

“You're not thinking of leaving tonight, are you? It's Thursday,” she asks, telling Marcus that she had indeed discussed Marcus' schedule changes with Lutorius.

“No. Not at all,” he hears himself lie. Of course he thought about it. He thinks of K a lot; he has to constantly make himself think of something else. But he didn't _mean_ to go.

“You sure?” Cottia insists, her skepticism palpable.

“Yeah.”

“Are you lying to me, Marcus?”

“No.”

“Be honest. It's alright. Just fucking say it,” she presses on, as if she doesn't trust him anymore.

“No. I want to be here,” he maintains.

“Why?”

There's a long pause where Marcus' mind draws a complete blank. “I don't know,” he mumbles.

“If you leave tonight, you'll never see me again in your life. Do you understand?”

Marcus nods, his gaze returning to the flames. Cottia leans in and kisses him, an awkward silence following.

He swirls the wine in his glass, watching the ruby red liquid slosh around. At this point, he really doesn't know why he should be here, trying to hold on to a dream that keeps slipping through his fingers with every step he takes. Despite Cottia's willingness to let Marcus seek what he needs outside their relationship, she obviously cannot cope with it. And Marcus isn't willing to give it up. He isn't willing to give K up. Cottia's insistence that Marcus is lying convinces him that she _wishes_ he's in fact lying. She's expecting him to end it, once and for all. The next move is his to make, and he knows what to do.

Marcus finishes his wine, rises, and walks toward the bedroom. He sits on the bed and picks up the picture frame from the nightstand. In it, he and Cottia are smiling, a majestic ash tree in the background. Marcus' throat starts to ache as sadness overtakes him. God, he'd felt so happy then, so full of hope. He's about to walk away from it all.

Cottia stands in the doorway, watching as he puts the frame back, face down. He rises and walks past Cottia who follows him to the front door.

“Is this goodbye? Is that what you're saying?” Cottia asks with tears in her eyes. Marcus just puts on his jacket. “Let's face it Marcus, you're not much of a boyfriend,” she snorts derisively. “It's Christmas. My parents are expecting us. _Both_ of us. It's fucking _Christmas_ ,” she reminds him, her voice growing shrill.

Her pleas go unanswered. Marcus fishes out his car keys from the bowl and leaves without saying goodbye. He drives straight to K's warehouse.

**

Marcus' mind is reeling. He drives the whole way as if on autopilot, and he's surprised to have made it there when he pulls up in the front of the warehouse. He turns the engine off, then squeezes the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, to keep his hands from shaking.

A few weeks ago, his life had been on the right track, and now it's crumbling all around him. For a while, he really thought he could spend the rest of his life with Cottia. She was a beautiful, kind woman, someone he could picture as the mother of his children, someone he could grow old with. He hadn't lied when he told Cottia he was more fond of her than K. Shit, for all the time he spends thinking about the young man, Marcus barely knows anything about him. But none of this matters now, does it? Cottia is gone and K is beyond reach.

He bangs both hands on the steering wheel in frustration; he wants to erase everything from his mind, and the only person who can help with that is across the street, with a handful of women standing between them. He needs K _now_.

Marcus doesn't bother waiting. He walks right through the waiting room and marches down the corridor. He doesn't knock, he just opens the door and enters as K is about to hang Madame's fur coat.

“What is this?” K asks mildly.

“Today, it's Madame who must wait,” Marcus declares. He knows he looks a mess, and he hopes K will notice and realize how badly Marcus needs him.

Frozen into place between both men, Madame slowly looks from Marcus to K, waiting for the young man's decision. K puts the empty hanger back and helps Madame into her coat. “Madame, I'm really sorry, but I have to have a few words with Soldier first.”

Marcus ignores the glare Madame sends in his direction as she leaves. He closes his eyes and exhales. He's not sure how K will react but at least Marcus has his attention now. That alone is enough to fill his belly with pleasant heat and drive blood to his groin.

“Your behavior is really upsetting me today.” K's tone of voice is detached despite his words and Marcus wants him to drop his cool facade right away. Seeking to provoke a strong reaction, Marcus steps closer, grabs K's wrist and forces him to feel his growing erection through his pants. K breaks out of Marcus' grip with a quick flick of the wrist and firmly pushes him away.

“I really ought to send you home,” K says, his voice finally taking a hard edge, as Marcus stares at him defiantly.

K turns his back on Marcus and walks away. He sits at his desk, fingers steepled under his chin, pondering his next move, and Marcus waits as K makes up his mind. K finally opens a drawer and pulls out a long parcel wrapped in festive red, green and gold paper.

“Happy Christmas, Soldier,” K says with a small smile that reaches his eyes. In his agitation, Marcus had completely forgotten about K's promise of a Christmas gift. He steps closer to receive his present.

Marcus sits down, takes the present from K's hands and opens it carefully. Inside, he finds a cat-o-nine tails that's obviously homemade; K had attached the ropes Marcus had tied into knots to a plain, wooden handle. K had made this for him. Marcus reverently touches the ropes, caressing them with his fingers before doing the same to the smooth handle, running a fingertip over the word K had written on it: _Soldier_.

Marcus sets his present on his lap and slowly uncoils the ropes, his cock throbbing at the thought of being struck with this whip - a whip they've made _together_. He looks up at K eagerly, letting all his hunger show through. K's eyes reflects the same desire, and it spurs Marcus on.

Marcus knows exactly what to do next. He puts down the whip to remove his coat, then he hangs it, as K would usually do for him. He picks up the phone books and sets them on the arm of the couch as K watches from his desk. Marcus takes the whip and places it at the head of the couch, where K likes to put the crop. K observes everything with interest, through dark, half-lidded eyes and Marcus can tell he's definitely turned on by Marcus' bold actions. Marcus pulls down his own pants and bends over, offering his ass to K.

K waits for a moment before getting up. When he approaches with the rope, Marcus is already breathing harshly, equally aroused and fearful.

“Let me touch my cock,” Marcus begs in a small voice. He craves the release and he thinks he might come if only he could stroke himself as K punishes him.

“What did you say?”

“I want to touch my cock while you beat me,” he repeats, reaching for his cock, which is already rock hard and leaking fluid.

“No, you don't,” K counters, pulling Marcus' arm back forward on the couch. “What's the matter with you today?” K asks, considering his Soldier with a frown.

Marcus guesses the question is rhetorical but he hears the disapproval in K's voice; he lets his forehead hit the couch with a frustrated sigh and tries to calm down. He expects K will tie up his hands next, but to Marcus' surprise K doesn't do so right away. Marcus turns his head to see what the hold up is.

“Have you been good for me this week?” K inquires from above.

“Yes,” Marcus answers immediately, knowing what K is referring to. Yes, he'd kept from even _trying_ to come, and it had probably precipitated the end of his relationship with Cottia.

“Get up,” K orders, dropping the hemp rope on the couch next to the cat. Marcus looks at him pleadingly, afraid K will send him home without tending to him. Somehow, that would be a worse punishment than a whipping.

“I'm sorry. Please don't send me away...” Marcus implores. K narrows his eyes at him, and Marcus ceases pleading. He's been bad tonight, and he doesn't dare presume K would indulge any of his pitiful begging.

“Get up,” K repeats evenly. This time, Marcus obeys silently. “Keep your pants down,” K says, as he walks to his desk to pull out a second length of rope, red this time. “Since you've been a good little soldier, I'll give you a reward. I'm going to tie this rope around your cock,” K announces. “Sit down,” he says, pointing at the couch. Marcus is rooted into place by the unexpected announcement and only does as asked when K impatiently snaps his fingers at him.

“Spread your knees. Wider,” K commands as he kneels down between Marcus' legs. “And keep your shirt out of the way.” Marcus holds his t-shirt up by the hem, lifting it up to chest level with one hand. K lets his gray eyes sweep over Marcus' partly bared upper body, licking his lips. He tilts his head. “Just take it off,” he amends.

Marcus gladly removes his t-shirt for K, his dog tags clinging against each other on his sternum. K places a hand over Marcus' chest, gently pushing him back into the couch. “I'd planned to bring some clamps for your nipples,” K says, drawing a gasp from Marcus by giving one of his nipples a tug. “But I changed my mind after our conversation last week,” he explains. Then he slowly runs his hand down Marcus' torso, from his nipple to his navel before turning his attention to his cock.

The red rope is thinner, and softer than the rope K uses on his wrists. Marcus observes K's hands closely as he creates a small noose he then carefully slips around the base of Marcus' cock and balls. He makes Marcus lift his own sac so he can twist the rope underneath it, then he loops each free strand twice around each of his testicles, separating them from the shaft. It's just tight enough to make Marcus more aware they're _there_ \- as if he needs that.

“How's that?” K asks. Marcus clears his throat and opens his mouth but words fail him. K might think this is all business as usual, but it isn't for Marcus.“I need to know if it's too tight, if it pinches, that sort of thing,” K specifies.

“It's, uh... It's fine,” he stammers. He's not exactly fine; Since K would not let Marcus jerk off, getting his cock bound is an acceptable alternative and the idea of K touching him intimately arouses him beyond belief. But K is an expert at dishing out pain and Marcus is genuinely worried.

“I'm not going to hurt you. Well, not _there_ anyway...” K tells him, as if he can read Marcus' mind. “Not _today_ , at least...” he adds, his gray eyes glinting mischievously. Marcus relaxes a little. _Not today_. It means K has wicked plans for Marcus's cock and balls down the line, and it makes him shiver in fear and anticipation.

K continues, barely touching Marcus' cock, but whenever he does, Marcus bites down on his lower lip and bucks on the couch. Each time, K checks with Marcus to ensure he's not uncomfortable. “Soldier, try not to move so much. I've never done this before.”

Marcus' eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

K nods. “I studied it so I could try it on you,” he tells Marcus before resuming his work. The revelation doesn't help Marcus calm down at all; K is doing this _just_ for him. When one of K's fingers brushes over his shaft, Marcus groans, straining not to move. Keeping it smooth and flat, K loops the rope around his shaft in neat rows from the base to the tip, then he ties a bow right below the corona. It makes Marcus feel like he's gift wrapped.

There's a moment, where K sits back on his heels and just gazes at Marcus, his eyes taking in his bound cock, his defined abs and muscular chest, then his face. The lust in K's eyes makes Marcus' cock throb, he enjoys the brand new sensation of the rope snugly wound around his erection. _Fuck_ , Marcus really, really likes this.

“Thank you, sir,” he whispers hoarsely.

K nods and waves his hand at Marcus who understands he's to lay down again. As is his custom, K straps Marcus in, ties the hemp rope to his wrists, then to the couch, and lastly tapes his legs apart.

He disappears for a moment, then returns with a long piece of cloth he kept in his desk. He kneels next to Marcus, holding it stretched between his hands. Marcus watches K tie a large knot in the middle, before trying to place it into Marcus' mouth. Marcus scowls and turns his head to the side in a weak attempt to resist, but K patiently keeps at it, and Marcus eventually lets him push the knot inside his mouth.

K ties the gag behind Marcus' head, then crouches to be at eye level with Marcus before addressing him. “Do you know why I'm gagging you, Soldier?” he asks.

Marcus shakes his head in answer. K had claimed no one could hear him from this room.

“Because you hold back,” K explains.

Marcus frowns at that.

“You don't scream. Just like you hide your limp and how much it hurts. It's your way of holding on to whatever little control you have. I want you to let go of it,” he explains, sweeping aside hair that's sticking to Marcus damp forehead. “I'm hoping the gag will absorb most of your cries and make them more acceptable to your own ears.”

Marcus finally understands what K is trying to do, so he nods at K who pets Marcus' head one last time.

K gets up and picks up the whip. “On account of the holidays and your behavior today, I'm going to give you the original Roman maximum of forty lashes,” he announces sternly, sending ripples of fear and excitement through Marcus. “Are you ready Soldier?”

Marcus utters a frustrated grunt through the gag and K lets out a short, barely audible chuckle. Marcus breathes through his nose, his heart racing in his chest as K picks a spot to stand on behind him. _Forty fucking lashes_. Nine ropes with three knots each make twenty-seven knots. Multiplied by forty...

The first strike interrupts his thoughts, and Marcus learns that the sensation is different from the crop. Instead of a single line of searing pain, the cat delivers multiple sharp jabs of pain to his entire backside, some of them on his lower back, some on the back of his upper thighs.

Marcus tries to keep count but he loses track way before he's halfway through. The pain and the arousal are commingling on a whole new level, and his brain shuts down; thoughts of Cottia, his father, his injury -all the things that had plagued his existence- quickly fade away. He shakes and twists, his whimpers and gasps swallowed by the gag. K's little stratagem with the gag is working; for the first time since Marcus started this whole experiment, he doesn't try to hold back and he cries out every time the small knots dig into his skin.

His legs tremble under the assault, and it makes his bound cock bounce and sway in all directions. The snug rope feels so good around his heavy cock, it makes him hump the air uselessly. This won't be enough. _Fuck_. Marcus wants more attention paid to his cock and he knows he won't get it; his helpless whines are muffled by the gag.

K whips him mercilessly, his backside quickly becomes a shapeless mass of throbbing, hot flesh. He groans on each exhale, putting K's bonds to the test like never before. K deviously changes the rhythm of his strikes, keeping Marcus from knowing when the next blow will come. Marcus gives up trying to anticipate the blows and just reacts to them.

Through his haze, it takes Marcus a moment to realize K isn't hitting him anymore. He groans and relaxes, his lower back, ass and upper thighs painfully pulsing and burning. He has no regrets. Marcus had prodded and pushed K into action, and K had retaliated, just like Marcus had hoped.

K unhurriedly releases Marcus from his bonds, giving Marcus time to readjust his stance after each leg is freed. The strap over his back is removed next, then K does away with the phone books used to elevate his pelvis. While his hands are still tied, K invites Marcus to lay on the couch more comfortably. The ex-Marine doesn't need to be told not to hump the cushions like a dog in heat this time. He crawls forward on the couch, as he'd done once before, but the weight of his body is too much on his engorged, bound cock. He groans and turns to his side, finding K already kneeling by the couch staring at him, his cheeks flushed from exertion.

The young man reaches behind Marcus' head to remove the gag, carefully pulling the saliva drenched knot from his mouth. Marcus swallows with relief and licks his lips. Using the ends of the gag, K wipes beads of sweat from Marcus' forehead and tears from the corner of his eyes Marcus had no idea were there. Marcus just lies motionless, limp, his arms still tied above his head, watching K through his lashes. K drops the cloth and reaches for Marcus' cock.

Marcus holds his breath.

K brushes a finger over the side of his over-sensitized cock head. It's enough to make Marcus' whole body shudder, and he moans shamelessly. Next, K wraps his hand around his length, the rope acting as a wall between his cock and the skin of K's palm. K squeezes just a little and Marcus jerks the rope and rocks his hips.

“Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes. The rope is too tight, too dry, and it doesn't move like he wants it to. “Please, please, please...” he chants in a low voice, reopening his eyes just in time to catch the smirk on K's lips.

K ignores his soldier's pleas and lets go of Marcus' cock. Marcus looks down at himself, finding his genitals look exactly the way he feels: about to burst. The head of his cock is swollen, and purplish red, and his testicles are tight and bulging, their shape accentuated by the rope lining them. K lightly runs a fingertip over one of his balls, drawing invisible lines over its sensitive skin. Marcus shivers, moans and swears under his breath as K gently teases his other ball too, reaching for Marcus' face with his free hand, cradling his neck and rubbing his thumb along Marcus' jawline.

K presses the pad of his other thumb into a sizable bead of liquid that has gathered in Marcus' slit. Using the precum as lube, K slides his thumb around, slowly swirling it around the tip of Marcus' cock over and over; more precum seeps out, K making good use of the slickness it provides.

“Ohmygod,” Marcus mumbles over and over, his head thrown back. K stops the delicious torture, cups Marcus' chin and makes him look forward, shushing him. Marcus takes a deep breath, staring into the young man's eyes. “Please, let me come. Please,” he pleads. K hushes him again, and places his precum covered thumb right in front of Marcus' mouth, raising an eyebrow. Marcus doesn't even think about it, he takes it into his mouth, licking it clean. He lets it slip out with a soft pop and looks at K again.

“Please, let me come. I'll do anything...” he tries to bargain breathlessly.

“I know,” K tells him, with a touch of cockiness than makes Marcus' cheeks burn ever more. Then K reaches for the rope around Marcus' cock.

The bow at the top comes undone, and K pulls the rope slowly, keeping it taut. The rope uncoils, its soft fibers rubbing around Marcus' corona; Marcus moans at the sensation. K studies Marcus' face as he pulls the rope right off. Marcus jerks his hips and makes a shapeless sound; for a few seconds, he thinks he might come, but there isn't enough stimulation.

K slips the rope off the base. As soon as the rope is gone, he grips Marcus' hard-on and starts pumping it in earnest, at Marcus' surprised delight.

“Yesss,” he hisses, rocking his hips in time with K's movements. “Oh god...” he mumbles. He can feel his orgasm coming. It's right _there_. Then K's hand's suddenly gone and Marcus growls as he feels the wave of pleasure recede. K collects more precum from his slit, then he rubs small circles over Marcus' frenulum.

“Jesus fucking Christ...” Marcus moans with a shuddered breath, pulling on the rope. He shifts on the couch. He tries to escape K's touch by uselessly rolling onto his back, only to turn back to his side, hissing in pain. _Fuck_. How could he forget about his ass?

After a moment, K switches back to jerking Marcus off, stopping again just before the soldier reaches the point of no return. Then he uses the precum Marcus had just produced to evilly trace the contours of his cock.

After a third round of being denied release, Marcus figures out what K's trying to do. He's trying to make him go fucking _insane_ by keeping him teetering on the edge, and it's working. He feels reduced to a puddle of want that exists solely for K's whims, and there's nothing else he'd rather be.

This time, instead of begging, he turns his head slightly, pressing his lips to K's hand and kissing the young man's fingers and palm. He lifts his gaze; K is watching him, biting his bottom lip. To Marcus, it's the most beautiful sight in the world, and Marcus wishes he could kiss K's lips instead of his hand.

“You... It's up to you,” he murmurs, lips still pressed to K's palm, as the young man keeps toying with him with light, playful caresses.

K holds Marcus' gaze as he resumes jerking him off a fourth time. He closes the distance between them, until his handsome angular face is hovering inches from Marcus'.

“Yes, Soldier. I've got you...” he whispers, and Marcus believes him.

Marcus' mouth falls open, pleasure churning in his belly again, so desperately in need of release it sends sparks up and down his spine. His balls are aching, hell, his whole body is aching. K is so close that for a second, Marcus thinks K _will_ kiss him. The thought makes him dizzy. The soldier struggles to keep his eyes open, but they flutter shut of their own accord as his orgasm is finally triggered. Weeks of pent up sexual energy and frustration are let loose; it feels so good it hurts. He arches his back, his whole body going rigid for a few seconds, then it hits him, like a blinding lightning bolt.

He can't control the way he moves or sounds, nor does he care. The blood roaring in his ears keeps him from hearing his loud moans. His fingertips and toes are tingling pleasantly and his whole groin is pulsating with waves of ecstasy.

He reopens his eyes just in time to see his cock twitching in K's hand - oh god yes, _his_ hand - as semen pulses out of it, landing on the floor and on K's lap in thick white lines. It doesn't seem to bother K, who continues to jack Marcus until he's sure no more cum can be drawn out of his soldier.

Marcus' orgasm is over, but there is still white on the edge of his vision, his whole body still thrumming with pleasure. He wonders how long he's been lying here like this and if he'll ever be able to string a complete sentence together ever again.

K is still watching him, head tilted, and the gentle expression on his face surprises Marcus. K's behavior had gone from distant and cold, to involved and even caring over the short period of time they'd known each other. Marcus can see glimmers of what they could be in the future. But it's crazy to dare imagine that, right?

“Thank you,” Marcus croaks, shivering as goose bumps skitter across his skin, his throat sore from screaming.

“You're welcome,” K replies, reaching out to push aside strands of hair stuck to Marcus' forehead. The gesture is sweet and Marcus leans into the touch greedily. K huffs and pets Marcus' hair in a way that could only be described as fond. “How was it?” K asks in a low voice.

“Amazing...” Marcus says, but the word is not apt enough to describe how he feels. He pauses to think. “It's like I broke free.” Free of what, Marcus couldn't exactly say. Not now anyway.

K hums, as if he understands Marcus' meaning. “I'm glad,” he says. Marcus nods and smiles at him.

Marcus' awareness of his surroundings returns slowly; he doesn't want to go back out there. He wants to stay here, with K petting him until he falls asleep. Better, he wants to pull K to him and hold his body close, to feel his warmth against him as his mind drifts.

Marcus is disappointed when K pulls away and gets up, breaking the spell that hung over them. He unties the knot that holds Marcus' wrists together and then heads toward the door.

“Hey, where are you going?” Marcus asks groggily, knowing it's none of his business.

“I'll be right back,” K assures him before he exits the room.

Marcus shifts on the couch to get more comfortable, closing his eyes and massaging his sore wrists. He flinches when K shuts the door on his way back in. The young man gets a small bag from his locker, pulling some gauze, a small spray can, and some bandages from it.

Without a word, K coaxes Marcus on his stomach to tend to his new injuries. Marcus lays his cheek atop his folded arm, inhaling sharply here and there, whenever K touches a particularly sore spot on his ass. K shakes the can and applies the antiseptic to the whole area. It feels cool and soothing on his burning skin, and Marcus hums approvingly.

“Do you have to be somewhere? After all, it is Christmas,” K inquires as he sticks a few bandages over the worse wounds on Marcus' ass.

“Nope,” Marcus replies. _Not anymore._ “Just home,” he adds. “Do I need to leave?” Marcus asks worriedly. There were people waiting for K out there after all.

“No.”

“What about Madame?” Marcus asks with a frown, remembering too well how he'd rudely interrupted her session.

“I sent her home. I sent them all home,” K explains as he puts the first aid supplies back into the bag. Marcus' stomach flips. K had gotten rid of all the others for him. “I'll drive you home, Soldier.”

“Uh?”

“I can't let you drive home like this. Get dressed. You can get your car later,” K announces as he padlocks the metal locker and grabs his coat from the hanger. Marcus inhales sharply as he pulls his sweatpants over his ass. He stumbles over to K who's holding his jacket for him.

**

Marcus follows K outside the building, and around the corner. K presses the button on his key fob to unlock his car. Marcus stops and blinks at the silver gray vehicle. It's a brand new BMW i750; this thing is probably worth more than Marcus had made in the past two years.

“This is yours?” Marcus asks, disbelieving.

K shrugs. “Yes. It's a great car,” he says earnestly as he opens his door.

“Yeah, I'm sure it is,” Marcus chuckles, pulling the handle and sitting down carefully. If K is that rich, then it explained why he refused to ask Marcus for money for his dom services. Part of the mystery solved, Marcus guesses. Kind of. Every time he learns one thing about the young man, Marcus just found himself even more curious. What did K do for a living?

Marcus tells K where he lives, and soon they're on their way. Marcus shifts on his seat, cringing every time the car hits a bump.

“Forty blows. That will hurt,” K says, glancing in the direction of Marcus' ass.

“Will? It already does,” Marcus retorts with a huff.

“I'm serious. That spray contains an analgesic. I recommend getting one like it.”

Marcus shrugs. “I don't need it. I sort of like the aftermath; the lingering pain, the bruises... They remind me of you,” he reveals to K.

“You think of me a lot?” K inquires, his eyes on the road.

“Yes,” Marcus answers.

There's a long silence where Marcus grows a bit nervous, and he tries to think of something interesting to say.

“Romans had no limits on the amount of blows. It was Jewish law that called for no more than forty lashes. It also insisted that the punishment had to be delivered in series of three, so thirty-nine was the most one could deliver,” Marcus tells K.

“Really? How do you know this?”

“My father was a bit of a military history nut. He used to teach me as a kid. The Romans were my favorite,” Marcus explained.

“ _Was_?”

“Yeah. He died serving his country,” Marcus answers vaguely.

“Sorry.” K pauses to glance at Marcus. “My father's dead too,” he adds, surprising Marcus with the revelation.

Marcus nods once, but he doesn't comment or ask for details. They lapse into silence that isn't awkward or uncomfortable, until K pulls up in front of Marcus' apartment building. K puts the car in park and waits for Marcus to get out. Marcus winces as he shift on his seat. He turns to look at K, his hand resting on the door handle.

“Thanks for the ride,” Marcus says.

“Which one?” K jokes with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Both,” Marcus replies, flashing a genuine smile. “Do you... uh, do you want to come up?” he mumbles, heat rising to his cheeks. He was single now, wasn't he?

K tightens his hold on the steering wheel and clenches his jaw. He shakes his head. “If I do that, I'm afraid I'll break the rules,” he says regretfully.

“Ah...” More heat spreads to Marcus' face, his stomach fluttering and desire flowing in his veins. He's disappointed, but K has just admitted he was attracted to Marcus. For now, it'll have to be enough.

“Come back to see me when you're fully healed,” K instructs. “Not before.” He jerks his chin toward the door; Marcus understands he's being dismissed and exits the car.

“Hey, Soldier!” K calls at the last minute. Marcus bends down to look at him. The young man hands him a long, thin green and red package. “You forgot your present,” he says, smiling again.

Marcus takes it and nods curtly. “Thanks,” he says returning the smile. K drives off and Marcus heads up to his apartment.

He doesn't have to work and has no plans for the night, so he takes a shower and dives into his bed. Cottia's gone, and his life will never be the same, but he's elated, dizzy, content even. He falls asleep with a dopey smile on his face, thinking of K.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Nymphomaniac, Joe gets rid of the cat-o-nine tails and never sees K again. That simply won't do for our boys here. I made up what follows, using small elements of both The Eagle and Nymphomaniac here and there, and I hope you will enjoy it. 
> 
> More thanks to Abbeyjewel for being such a great beta, and a lovely person all around. <3

The bar is busy for New Year's eve, but the buses are still running by the time Marcus is able to leave. It doesn't matter, because he's in no hurry to get back to a now depressing, half-empty apartment, and Marcus decides to walk home from work.

Marcus has been rehashing the events from last week over and over, and he can't quite make sense of it all. What had brought on his miraculous recovery and allowed him to climax again? Had it been K's brutality? Had it been the closeness between them? Or had the end of his relationship with Cottia somehow unlocked a barrier in his subconscious? Either way, the timing is so ironic, he laughs bitterly.

Now that he has his orgasms back, Marcus had contemplated not returning to K, thinking of doing something symbolic, like throwing the cat-o-nine-tails into the river and never looking back. But K's pull on Marcus is too strong, his attraction to the mysterious young man too consuming to walk away from.

Another perplexing point for Marcus is that K apparently doesn't think a hand job breaks the first rule. Marcus remembers K's words very clearly: _First rule is that I don't fuck you, and there isn't any discussion about that_. Where did K draw the line then? Was Marcus even allowed to ask? He shakes his head in dismay. Regardless, Marcus' imagination has been working overtime, thinking up ways in which he and K could break the rule –or not– and the fantasies were enough for Marcus to reach the point of orgasm, without having to expose himself to actual physical pain.

Marcus wonders if K does the same. Does he think of Marcus while they're apart? Does he get hard while planning Marcus' next session? Does he bring to mind his time with Marcus and stroke himself thinking of the bruising patterns on his ass, or his face? _Shit_. Marcus decides he better stop that particular line of thinking or he'll be sporting an uncomfortable erection right here on the sidewalk. He huffs and buries his nose into his scarf against the wind.

It's getting colder and it's snowing again. The large snowflakes cover the slush with a white layer and Marcus curses under his breath every time he steps into a concealed puddle.

He's only a few blocks away from home when he hears voices coming from the alley on his right. He glances in the direction of the noise. There are four men surrounding another and pushing him around. _Not fair_. Marcus stops in his tracks, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. From where he is, it's hard to tell, but the man in the middle doesn't seem to be fighting back in any way, and it gives Marcus pause.

Then suddenly, a punch is thrown, and the man in the middle just takes it. Another blow makes him stagger back. The third punch sends him to the ground, where he stays. One of the attackers pours his drink on him, as he and his buddies laugh and yell insults Marcus can't quite hear. When one of the men delivers a kick to the prone man's gut, Marcus's instincts kick in and he starts down the alley, adrenaline flooding his bloodstream. He'll be damned if he lets four guys beat up one man, especially if the man in question isn't a threat.

“Hey,” Marcus calls out.

One of the men, the leader it seems, turns to look at him. “Stay out of this,” he warns with a sneer.

“Looks to me like _this_ is over,” Marcus tells the man calmly, as he walks ever closer, sizing the men up. The other three men turn their attention to him, leaving their prey curled up on his side in a puddle of melted snow, just as Marcus had hoped.

“Not quite. This faggot needs a lesson,” he tells Marcus. He reaches for the front of his pants, unzipping them as his buddies laugh. Marcus knows he means to piss on the man on the ground. “Get the fuck...” the man starts; he never gets to finish. Marcus dashes forward and tackles the man to the ground.

Marcus doesn't wait for his friends to go on the offensive; he steps up to the closest man and hits him in the chin with a vicious left uppercut, snapping his head back. Then he grabs the back of the dazed man's neck with his palm, jerking him forward and down as Marcus sends a knee flying to his gut. The man makes a strangled noise and falls on his face, unable to breathe.

Marcus whirls around, ducking as he goes, avoiding the left jab a third man throws in his direction, then he wraps his arm over the man's waist, lifting him up and using his hips to throw him off balance and flipping him to the ground. He kicks the man in the kidney, takes two steps back, then settles in a defensive stance.

Arms bent, fists up, he waits.

He breathes evenly and keeps his knees bent, ignoring his bad leg's protests. Fuck, he missed this. The rush that came from battle, from outsmarting an opponent with bare fists. The fourth man is wiser than the rest of them. He lifts both hands in surrender, mumbling an apology, then he helps the leader up who's wiping blood off his mouth. He probably busted his lip on the cement. _Good_. The other two scramble up and stumble after their friends. Marcus can't help being disappointed; he would have welcomed the challenge of fighting four men.

Marcus makes sure they're really gone before running to the victim. “Hey, are you okay?” Marcus asks, turning the man over to his side. A pair of unfocused gray eyes looks back at him.

“K?” Marcus utters, dumbfounded.

“Soldier...” the young man murmurs, squinting at him.

“Do you need an ambulance? I can call for one,” Marcus offers, pulling out his cell phone.

“No, I don't need an ambulance,” K croaks.

“That will hurt,” Marcus comments, raising an eyebrow.

“That's possible. Doesn't matter to me,” K says as he tries to sit up. He winces and lays back down.

“I assume you don't want me to call the police either.”

“Yes. That's exactly right.”

“Is there anything you want?” Marcus asks.

“I'd like a cup of tea.”

Marcus laughs. “Well... You'll have to come with me. I don't serve tea on the street,” he says as he helps K up. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah.”

It's true. K can walk. Not very straight, and not very fast, but Marcus guesses it technically counts as walking. As they emerge from the alley side by side, K wavers, and Marcus steps in before the young man's knees buckle.

K's clothes are filthy and wet, and Marcus can feel the young man shiver against him as he supports him all the way home. By now Marcus suspects that K isn't entirely sober which partly accounts for his stumbling.

He immediately brings K to the bathroom to have a closer look at his injuries. Marcus makes sure there are no nasty bumps on K's head then selects some first aid supplies from the cabinet; some alcohol pads, antibiotic ointment, bandages. K lets Marcus clean the cut on his eyebrow and the scrape on his cheek, but he bats his hands away when he tries to apply ointment to his face. Marcus doesn't insist; K is still shivering, and Marcus decides it's a much more pressing issue.

“I'll get you some dry clothes,” Marcus offers. K nods and starts undoing the buttons of his shirt, the ones that hadn't popped off when one of the goons had grabbed him by the collar. Marcus snatches a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his bedroom across the way and goes right back to the bathroom. He reenters as K is trying to untie his shoe, a grimace on his face.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks, dropping the clothes on the vanity.

K straightens up with a wince, placing his palm on the side if his ribcage. “It hurts...”

“Told you it would,” Marcus quips, trying to hide the fact that he's impressed by K's physique. K's body is all muscles, lean and tight. Marcus knew men built like K; not wide and bulky like Marcus, but slighter of frame and wiry, stronger than they looked and quick too, able to take down a man twice their size if need be. His skin is pale, his chest is hairless, but there's a patch of light brown hair that leads to the waist of low-riding jeans that shows off the crest of his hips. There's a tribal tattoo on his right arm, the design wrapping around K's bicep from his elbow to his shoulder. Marcus had no idea it was there, and _fuck_ , he can't help finding the ink _sexy_. “Broken rib?” he asks.

“Not sure. I don't think so,” K answers. “Can you help me?” he asks pointing at his feet. Marcus kneels down and busies himself with K's laces before pulling off his shoes and socks. When he's done, he looks up at K, finding a familiar spark in the young man's gray eyes.

Marcus freezes. Until now, he'd been in crisis mode, bent on caring for K after the confrontation in the alley. But now, it's as if K has flipped a switch, and the whole world is tinted differently. K has that power. “I, uh...” Marcus mumbles. The corner of K's lips curls up, as if he's amused by Marcus' uneasiness.

“Stay where you are,” K orders quietly before standing up. Marcus' eyes flick from K's pale eyes above him to his crotch, right there in front of his face and Marcus can't help blushing furiously. Like a cat playing with a mouse, K waits a few seconds before adding, “Help me with my pants, Soldier.”

Marcus swallows thickly and undoes K's belt and button before pulling the tab of the zipper with shaky fingers. Hoping to avoid looking at K's groin, Marcus looks into K's eyes as he pulls the pants down K's hips. But the jeans are wet, difficult to remove, and Marcus has to look at what he's doing. He tries to concentrate on working the pants off each leg in turn, but he can't ignore it. He sees the bulge of K's cock and balls through his boxer briefs and Marcus' whole body overheats all of a sudden. The jeans are off, and Marcus stays where he is and just stares.

“I'm freezing. I'd like to take a shower,” K says.

Marcus tears his eyes away from K's crotch, clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah. Just go ahead.”

K steps away from Marcus to open the door to the shower stall. He drops his underwear to the floor and steps out of them. “Why don't you make that tea we talked about?” K asks from inside the stall, as Marcus is still kneeling on the floor, staring blankly at the spot where K was sitting.

Marcus rouses himself. He would never have imagined such a scenario. K is _here_ , in his apartment, showering and casually asking for a cup of tea.

What does it mean?

Nothing probably. It's all just a strange coincidence, he thinks as he throws K's beer soaked clothes in the washer. Then he remembers the state of his apartment. K will need to lay down and the couch is gone. He hurries to the bedroom to change the sheets on the bed.

**

When K's done showering, Marcus guides him to the bedroom. He explains it's the best place for him to lay down comfortably with his sore ribs and assures him the sheets are clean. He omits mentioning the bed's the only option because Cottia had taken the living room set, save for the armchair that belonged to him.

Marcus helpfully pulls the comforter over K's legs when the kettle whistles; he leaves K alone and heads to the kitchen to make the tea.

Moments later, Marcus returns and watches from a distance as K lays back on the pillows, and sips his tea. K hums approvingly after swallowing the hot liquid and licks his lips, the simple motion sending a wave of heat to Marcus' groin. He's been wondering how that tongue would feel, tangling with his, licking his nipples, swirling around the head of his cock... He pushes those thoughts away, crossing his arms and leaning back on the dresser.

“When did she leave you?” K asks as he sets the cup back onto the saucer with a soft clink.

Marcus' jaw drops. “How do you know?”

“Well, for starters, she forgot her shampoo in the shower. Then, there's this,” K says, nodding toward the picture frame that's still face down. K must have peeked at it while Marcus was fetching his tea. “And it looks like half of your stuff is missing.”

It appears that K's powers of observation are still finely tuned. Cottia had come back when she knew Marcus was at work to remove her stuff, from her clothes to her furniture. He hadn't had the heart to get rid of her shampoo.

“She left me on Christmas,” Marcus answers as K takes another sip of hot tea. The young man almost chokes on it.

“Christmas? That's, uh... harsh,” he mumbles with a frown.

“She was gone when I came home. After you dropped me off,” Marcus reveals.

“That's why you were upset,” K intones, the furrow between his eyes deepening.

Marcus huffs and picks up the frame. “She gave me a choice and I did what I knew she wanted: I gave her a good reason to leave me.” Marcus heads back to the dresser and throws the picture into one of the drawers before shutting it.

“She left because you came to see me,” K states. “I'm sorry, mate,” he adds sincerely.

“It's not your fault. We were already having problems before I met you.” Marcus runs a finger along the edge of the dresser, idly removing the dust there as he speaks. “I thought I loved her, you know? I thought I was going to marry her. Have kids with her, but...” He sighs and shrugs. “The injury changed everything, and she just couldn't deal with my new... _needs_ ,” Marcus says, clearing his throat before looking up at the other man.

K nods, signaling he understands, then he pats the mattress. “Sit down.” Marcus hesitates. K raises an disapproving eyebrow at him, and Marcus approaches and sits on the edge of the mattress, next to K's legs. “Aren't you going to ask what happened to me tonight?” K inquires.

“Sure,” Marcus says, glad that K is changing the subject. “Why did they attack you?”

“Drunk arseholes... They didn't need a reason. I was having a few drinks, minding my own business. One of them called me a fag and I told him off. They followed me when I left,” K relates.

“What I really want to know is why you didn't defend yourself,” Marcus says, tilting his head. K smirks before answering.

“There were four of them. Why rile them up? I'm _not_ the masochist here...” K says, his eyes sparkling playfully.

“Don't fight back, so you don't piss them off more? That's a... an unusual tactic,” Marcus comments, unconvinced.

“I'm an unusual bloke,” K retorts.

“I'm not buying it,” Marcus replies, dead serious.

The playfulness in K's eyes is gone. He presses his lips together then sighs, as if resigned to tell Marcus the truth. “I deserved it.”

“Why? What did you do to them?”

“Nothing. It was just as I told you.”

“Then...” Marcus stops mid-sentence. He frowns at K, thoroughly confused.

“I'm just a bad human being,” K says with a shrug. “I figured I deserved it.”

“I've never met a bad human being,” Marcus replies immediately. Marcus had seen a lot of fucked up shit in his life, but true evil, Marcus believed, was very rare.

“Well, you have now,” K insists.

“I'll be the judge of that,” Marcus counters. “Do you think you're bad because of what you do at the warehouse?”

K nods slowly, staring at the tea in his cup. Marcus is surprised that someone like K feels guilty about what he does. He would have thought the young man comfortable about being a dom, especially one that operated without safewords. “I'll admit what you do is unusual, but you're upfront about it. You're not forcing anyone. I'm glad I found you. You gave me what I wasn't able to get anywhere else.”

“Maybe I should let you explain this to my family, huh?” K huffs, looking up from his cup.

Marcus raises both eyebrows. “Are they the ones telling you that you're a bad person?” Marcus asks, remembering how Cottia made him feel that there was something wrong with him for being aroused by pain. Whatever had happened between K and his family recently, it had shaken him to the point of him getting drunk and letting four men beat him up without resisting.

“Let's just say they don't exactly agree with my lifestyle choices,” K says.

 _Lifestyle choices_. Marcus can't help asking more questions, wanting to dig deeper. “What those jerks in the alley called you... Are you...”

“What? A fag?” K cuts in, Marcus wincing at the slur word. That isn't what he meant to say, but K doesn't give him time to correct him. “Does it matter, Marcus?”

Marcus' heart leaps in his chest at K's use of his first name. “How do you know my name?”

K sets his tea cup down on the nightstand, his movements steadier now that he's sobered up some. He shifts and approaches Marcus with a wince of pain. Then he reaches for the thin ball chain around Marcus' neck, pulling the dog tags out of unbuttoned top of his black work shirt, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the embossed letters: _Marcus Aquila_.

“Ah, yes...” Marcus starts, his voice dying in his throat as K's fingertips suddenly brush over his lower lip. He stays still, enjoying every second of the light touch as it sends dizzying lust through him. He just lets it happen. He doesn't want to analyze why this man turns him on more than anyone else he's ever met. He doesn't need to understand why, he just wants to _feel_.

Sadly, it's over too soon, K's arm dropping to his lap as if K's too weak to maintain the touch. “So, does it matter?” K repeats.

Marcus frowns, not understanding at first. Then the conversation comes back to him through the fog of his arousal. “You mean, does it matter if you're gay or not?” Marcus asks, repressing the need to rearrange his hardening cock in his pants. K nods in response. “I guess it doesn't. The first rule is that you won't fuck me, so...”

“It could be argued that meeting you outside the warehouse like this breaks the third rule,” K muses.

“I can go sit in the living room and wait for you to call me in, if you prefer,” Marcus offers, holding back a grin.

K chuckles. “It's your place. Your rules...”

“I prefer when you make the rules,” Marcus retorts through a smile. He thinks for a few seconds, and decides to risk asking the question that's on the tip of his tongue. “Are you going to tell me your real name, or do I have to keep calling you K?”

K shakes his head. “You never call me K,” he rectifies. “Madame calls me _Monsieur_. Princess calls me _Daddy_...You call me _Sir_.”

“You're not going to tell me, are you?” Marcus asks, crestfallen.

“You saved me from a serious beat down out there. I owe you,” K says seriously. He tilts his head to the side, looking Marcus in the eye. “My name is Esca.”

Marcus' stomach flutters wildly. _Esca_. The name is odd and exotic, like the man it belongs to. _Unusual_. Marcus doesn't know what to say. He feels like he should thank the man for trusting him with his name, but K –Esca– speaks before Marcus can think of something to say.

“If you had to pick a safeword, what would it be?” Esca inquires.

“You don't do safewords,” Marcus reminds him.

“Humor me,” the young man replies.

Marcus had never been given the chance to pick a safeword before; he'd simply been assigned the red-yellow-green system. “Eagle,” Marcus answers without hesitating. “It was my father's nickname in the Marines.”

Esca scoots closer with another wince, reaching for Marcus' dress shirt again, this time with both hands. He places his fingers over the second button. “Since you like it when I make the rules, I propose a new game,” he whispers. “Use your safeword if you want me to stop. If you say it, I'll stop everything and check in with you.”

“Breaking more of your own rules...” Marcus murmurs.

“Fuck my rules...” Esca says quietly, glancing at Marcus before sliding the button through its slit.

Esca had given Marcus his power back. If Marcus doesn't want to go any further, he can use his safeword. He knows Esca will stop. Esca wouldn't have offered it if he didn't mean it. This newly created trust has the same potent effect on Marcus than the fear had. Esca, the man who populates so many of Marcus' thoughts is giving him the personal attention he craves.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asks, his breath hitching as Esca's nimble fingers slowly work their way down his shirt.

“I want to see you,” Esca answers hoarsely, as the shirt falls open. He pushes the garment off Marcus' wide shoulders, letting it to slide down his arms to his elbows. There are numerous scars on Marcus' torso; healed scrapes, cuts and a bullet wound, none of them as big or ghastly as the one on his leg. Esca slowly traces them with a fingertip, making Marcus shiver.

“Give me your belt, Marcus,” Esca demands, withdrawing his hand.

Marcus' pulse quickens as he wonders what Esca plans to do with it. He unbuckles his belt and pulls it out of the loops of his pants, folding it in two before giving it to Esca.

“Take all your clothes off,” Esca orders quietly.

“All of them?” Marcus asks, his green eyes widening. He'd found himself in various states of undress in front of Esca, so it shouldn't be that big of a deal. But he'd never gotten _totally_ naked, and it feels like a milestone.

“I would like that,” Esca tells him, his expression soft. “As I already said, I want to see you.”

Marcus stands up and slowly removes his clothes as Esca watches from his seat on the bed, playing idly with the leather strap. He savors the moment, each article of clothing he discards a symbol of his complete willingness and submission. When he's done, Marcus simply stands there, looking right into Esca's steely eyes.

“All the others avoid looking me in the eye, even though it's not one of my rules,” Esca tells him from the bed. “But you...” Esca says, shaking his head, “ _you_ always look me in the eye.”

“I find your face much better to look at than your feet...” Marcus replies, delighted to see Esca smile. _Fuck_. The young man looks even more stunning when he smiles.

“You like being watched,” Esca says, slipping out of bed. It doesn't sound like a question; it's merely a statement of fact.

It's true, but Marcus enjoys having Esca's attention above everyone else's. “And you like to watch,” Marcus replies.

Esca smiles and nods. The young man's eyes slowly scan every inch of Marcus' body, as he circles around him. Marcus feels Esca's breath as the young man blows on the back of his neck. Marcus shivers, and Esca slides his fingers down his back before palming one of his ass cheeks.

“Still not fully healed. You'll need a few more days off,” he comments, giving Marcus' ass a little swat before moving on.

Esca runs a hand down Marcus' left bicep, squeezing the well developed muscles of his arm, then he does the same to his chest, pausing to thumb each nipple in turn. He traces the outline of Marcus' defined abs, his abdomen quivering under his splayed fingers, all the while avoiding his cock, which is erect and jutting out in front of him. He kneads his shoulder, circling around to drag fingernails down the line of Marcus' spine, the young Marine visibly shuddering under the touch.

Esca cradles the buckle in his palm and wraps the belt around his hand, leaving about six inches of leather hanging free. Marcus' eyes widen when Esca swings the belt and smacks his open hand, demonstrating how hard the blows will be. Marcus tenses and his cock jumps as Esca runs the leather over the underside of his erection. He inhales sharply and holds his breath as Esca runs the slightly rough suede side of the belt over his balls. His stomach drops and his adrenaline spikes up. Esca wouldn't, would he?

Esca tilts his head, peering at Marcus though his lashes. “Just four,” he whispers huskily. “I'm going to whip your nice, big cock four times. I _know_ you can take it.”

Marcus' mouth goes dry, and his tongue feels thicker than usual; he can't speak, he can only respond with a whimper that makes Esca smirk.

The leather is gone, then it's back again, the strap hitting the side of Marcus' cock with a snapping sound. Marcus' whole body twists, both out of shock and pain. He takes a deep breath and turns back toward Esca, who's just standing there waiting, the arousal plain on his face. Marcus exhales and rolls his shoulders, staring into Esca's eyes. Esca glances down at Marcus' cock, and it's enough to make Marcus flinch. Esca smirks. Then, he whips Marcus again, right on the side of his shaft.

Marcus groans, struggling to stay put. He lets his head fall back, breathing in and out through his mouth. The left side of his cock is burning, and his heart is thumping in his chest. He looks at Esca again, the young man's cheeks flushing as he waits for Marcus to be ready for the next blow.

Esca moves his arm, and Marcus' hands leave his sides to shield his erection from harm. Esca clucks his tongue at him disapprovingly. Marcus decides to clasp his hands behind his back, because he's not sure he can fight the instinct to protect himself. As soon as he's done so, Esca whips the other side of his cock with a quick swing of his arm. Marcus turns his hips away from the blow, groaning as the pain lingers on. His cock is throbbing so strongly, Marcus can feel his heartbeat through it. Esca waits patiently as Marcus regains a semblance of composure.

“One more, Marcus,” Esca whispers.

Marcus stands up straight, squaring his shoulders as he faces Esca again. He forces himself to breathe through his nose and closes his eyes to avoid jumping out of the belt's way.

“Fuck,” Marcus cries out as the belt licks at his cock, taking a step back before grunting in pain through his gritted teeth.

“Good boy,” Esca says, uncoiling the leather from around his hand. He pets Marcus' shoulder and walks behind him.

Esca's warm hands bring Marcus' wrists together behind his back, bending his elbows.

“I'm going to use your belt to bind your wrists,” he whispers, his breath warm against Marcus' ear. When Marcus doesn't protest, Esca loops the leather strap around Marcus' wrists and then slips the end of the belt through the buckle, then stalks around him.

“Kneel,” Esca orders when he's in front of Marcus again. Marcus' knees go weak at the mere words, but he doesn't move. Esca narrows his eyes at him and grows tense. “If you don't kneel _now_ , it will become necessary for me to hit you in the face,” he warns, his voice turning cold and his eyes growing into small pools of black. Marcus raises his chin and waits.

Esca doesn't hold back –he rarely does– and the blow jostles Marcus' head to the side. His abused cock throbs as his cheek stings from the vicious blow.

“Kneel,” Esca growls this time. Marcus' knees fold, and he slips to the floor without further defiance.

Esca sits down on the edge of the mattress, right in front of Marcus, and cups his left cheek, running his thumb over the now hypersensitive skin of Marcus' cheekbone. Marcus's green eyes flutter shut.

“So _bloody_ gorgeous...” Esca whispers, so close Marcus can feel Esca's moist breath on his face. Esca leans in and lets his lips skim over the spot where his thumb had been a second ago. He carefully kisses Marcus' bruising cheek, and tilts his head the other way, his nose bumping into Marcus'.

Marcus gasps and opens his eyes.

He's never kissed a man before. He knows it's coming; the young man is giving Marcus plenty of time to object, something Marcus has no intention of doing. Instead Marcus licks his lips and parts them slightly. Esca lightly brushes his lips against Marcus'.

Marcus shudders, his cock throbbing as Esca finally kisses him. Marcus is surprised by how gentle Esca is, as if he's afraid to scare off Marcus. After the slow, careful press of Esca's lips on his, his tongue slips into Marcus' mouth, the soldier's whole body thrumming with arousal as he lets his own tongue tangle with Esca's, tasting a blend of faint alcohol and Earl Grey tea.

Then, Esca growls and cups his face with both hands, holding him in place as he slips his tongue deeper, delving into his mouth and kissing Marcus possessively; Marcus hums and melts under the sudden change in intensity. He wishes he could move his hands, to hold Esca too, to card his fingers through his hair, to run his hands over the lean muscle he knows is under the loose t-shirt. Esca nips at Marcus' bottom lip, pulls back and breathes deeply, taking a moment to collect himself.

Marcus' eyes dance, from Esca's eyes, to his lips, down to his feet then back up. “I want to see you,” he murmurs.

“I'm right here,” Esca singsongs teasingly.

Marcus scoffs, knowing Esca is just toying with him, forcing him to put his desires into clear words. “I want you to take your shirt off,” Marcus tells him, looking directly into his eyes. _Fuck_ , he had no idea it'd feel this amazing to say it out loud.

Esca smiles, runs his thumb over Marcus' cheek one more time, then removes the borrowed t-shirt, pulling it up by the hem. The garment lands somewhere on the floor, but Marcus isn't paying any attention; he stares at Esca for all he's worth, letting his eyes rove over the young man's lean, muscled upper body.

“I like your tattoo,” he says, wishing he could touch it.

“It's an old Celt design,” Esca tells him, shifting so Marcus can have a better look. Marcus tries to reach for it anyway, his movement hindered by the belt. He impulsively leans in and kisses Esca's bicep, dragging his lips across it, then tracing the lines with his tongue.

Esca's hand finds its way behind Marcus' head, his long fingers threading through Marcus' short hair. He gently nudges Marcus to the side, until Marcus presses his cheek right against Esca's chest, where he listens to Esca's heart for a moment, thrilled to find out it's beating as fast as his.

He wants to worship every part of Esca. He doesn't have use of his hands for now, so he has to do it with his mouth. He turns and kisses Esca's chest, quickly finding his nipple and sucking on it as his cock bumps into the side of the bed. Fuck, it feels good and he gently bites Esca's nipple, igniting a gasp from the young man.

Esca's grip tightens in his hair, forcing Marcus to look up and holding him firmly in place as he crashes his lips back on his, and then hungrily sucks on his tongue. The intense kiss leaves Marcus breathless.

“What do you want?” Esca asks, hunched forward to keep their foreheads pressed together.

“Everything,” Marcus answers. There's so much he wants to do to Esca – _with_ Esca– that he's a little dizzy.

“That's a nice thought. Where do we start, then?” Esca asks, smirking.

Marcus glances down at Esca's crotch, noticing the bulge there. “Take the pants off too,” he tells him, sitting back on his heels. “Please.”

Esca pushes his sweatpants down; he's not wearing any underwear – they're still in the washer – and his fully erect cock is immediately revealed, bobbing as Esca gets rid of the garment. It isn't as thick as Marcus' own cock, but it rivals in length. Marcus had imagined how it might look, and he thinks the real thing is _perfect_.

Esca sits patiently as Marcus stares at him. The soldier eventually looks up and opens his mouth to talk. “I thought about this.”

“Oh?” Esca utters, raising an eyebrow.

Marcus licks his lips. “I want...” He pauses and looks down at the carpet.

Esca cups his chin to make him look up. “Marcus, whatever you want, you can have. You never have to feel ashamed with me. I mean, think about it...” Esca says soothingly. Marcus does think on it; Esca is right. After what he's let Esca do to him at the warehouse...

“I want to please you,” Marcus says, knowing it's still too vague.

“How?” Esca inquires.

Marcus gives a little shrug. Oh, he has some ideas, but he prefers for Esca to choose how Marcus will please him.

“You could suck me off,” Esca suggests. “Would you like that?”

Marcus swallows hard, heat pooling in his gut. “Yes...”

He's never given a blowjob before. Sure, Marcus has been with a man or two in the past. There'd been a drunken tussle turned humping session between horny college students long ago. More recently, there’d been an exchange of hand jobs during rare stolen moments of privacy while abroad with the Marines; messy, hurried incidents without grace or real connection. _This_ is different.

Esca smiles at Marcus; a soft smile that helps Marcus relax. The young man runs his thumb over Marcus' lips then bends down and kisses Marcus messily before leaning back on his hands for support. He spreads his legs a little, a clear invitation for Marcus, who stumbles closer on his knees, his wrists still caught behind his back.

He deposits a small kiss inside Esca's knee, first. Of course, it would be easier if his hands were free. He _could_ ask Esca to untie him. But Marcus likes the feel of the belt on his skin, the leather acting as an extension of Esca, just like Esca's ropes. Marcus mouths the skin of Esca's inner thigh; it smells like soap and Marcus nuzzles into it, reveling in the softness of the pale, almost invisible hair on Esca's legs. He keeps licking and kissing his way up, his arousal climbing to new heights as he gets closer to Esca's cock.

He's almost there, so close Esca can probably feel Marcus' breath on his cock. He looks up, lips shiny with spit, pleased that Esca appears to be as turned on as Marcus. He reaches out, placing one hand behind Marcus' head, and then he pulls him closer.

Marcus closes his eyes as Esca's cock is pressed against his cheek, hot and hard. Esca rolls his hips with a small gasp. It's a beautiful sound, and Marcus wants to make Esca gasp more, make him moan, make him fall apart and finally see him overcome with pleasure. He pulls back a little and gathers all his courage, opening his eyes and parting his lips, ready to take Esca's cock in his mouth.

When he makes his move, he's stopped in his tracks by Esca's hand tugging him back by the hair. He gazes up at Esca searchingly, his mouth still open. Esca just smirks at him, tugging a little harder.

Marcus' target is only an inch away, so he sticks out his tongue, succeeding in taking a short swipe at Esca's cock. He wriggles the tip of his tongue over the underside of Esca's erection, and it only makes his hunger grow as he weakly fights against Esca's grip to get closer to his prize.

He swipes his tongue on the very tip of Esca's cock, dipping it into a drop of precum, and then stops struggling. “Please, Esca,” he breathes; he gasps when Esca pulls on his hair even harder, forcing him to tip his head back and sideways, his cock throbbing at the sudden flash of pain.

“Please what? I want to hear you say it, Marcus,” Esca purrs.

“I want to suck your cock, _please_ ,” Marcus announces, his pulse quickening. The plea seems to satisfy Esca, who finally lets go of Marcus' hair.

Marcus lets the head of Esca's cock slide between his lips, closing them around it, then suckling it as he gets used to the feeling. He tentatively swirls his tongue around the tip; Esca's moan makes Marcus want to take more of him into his mouth, so he does. He can feel the cock in his mouth throb on his tongue, making his own do the same empathically. He can taste more precum leaking onto his tongue, and he moans around his mouthful, unable to hold back how much pleasing Esca turns him on. He wants to pull back and tell Esca, tell him he tastes _delicious_ and tell him he loves being his good little cocksucking soldier... But he'd have to stop sucking for that, and Marcus doesn't want to.

Instead, he hollows his cheeks and sucks harder with obscene slurping sounds, all of his earlier embarrassment gone. He enthusiastically bobs up and down, the other man trembling and panting softly under his ministrations, until Esca grips his hair and pulls him back roughly. Marcus waits, green eyes glazed over and mouth open, saliva dripping down his chin.

Esca scoots closer, holding the base of his erection with his other hand. He guides his cock back into Marcus' mouth, slowly filling it, until it won't go any further. Then he presses a little more. Marcus gags and recoils instinctively, but Esca's grip keeps him in place. The young man caresses Marcus' cheek, making a low soothing sound.

“Relax. Breathe,” Esca tells him. Esca seems to be looming over him, beautiful gray eyes almost obliterated by their pupils; he holds all the cards. He makes the rules. He plays games with Marcus and Marcus wants to be his pawn.

Marcus does the best he can to do so as Esca rolls his hips, pushing deep inside his mouth. Marcus tries to relax his jaw, concentrating on keeping his teeth out of the way as Esca's movements gather more speed. His jaw quickly becomes sore, and he grunts in relief when Esca pulls out and presents his balls to his soldier for him to attend to. Marcus laps at them with the flat of his tongue, then sucks on them just he likes it done to him, hoping Esca will like it too.

It's only a short reprieve; Esca orders him to open his mouth again, slipping his erection past Marcus' lips with a pleased groan that makes Marcus glance upward. “Yes,” Esca hisses, “look at me,” he purrs, stroking Marcus' bruised cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. Marcus struggles to keep his eyes open; They fill with tears as Esca fucks his mouth fast and deep, Marcus realizing that being on his knees and letting Esca use him for his pleasure is almost as exhilarating as having him whip him into a whimpering mess.

“Fuck...” Esca grunts. “I'm going to come,” he warns between two harsh breaths. Marcus, thrilled, moans around the cock in his mouth. The thought of pulling off crosses Marcus' mind, but he wants to taste Esca's cum, no, he _needs_ it. The steady rhythm of Esca's hips falters; Marcus can feel the cock twitch on his tongue, Esca's legs trembling as he climaxes with a guttural moan.

The first jet of cum goes right down Marcus' throat, the rest spilling on tongue; he tries to swallow it all, but there's too much, and it overflows, spilling down his chin as Esca pulls his spent cock out. Marcus licks his lips, dutifully trying to clean the mess, but there's more of Esca's cum on his chin he can't reach.

A breathless Esca bends down, cupping Marcus' chin, and he kisses his soldier slow and deep. He licks his own cum off his Soldier's face, then dips his tongue inside Marcus' mouth, Marcus gladly taking everything Esca gives him. It feels dirty to have the man who has just come in his mouth kiss him right afterward, and Marcus relishes it.

Marcus shift his weight from one knee to the other, his injury sending pain lancing through him. He's been kneeling for too long, and he winces and groans.

Esca notices. “Are you okay?”

“It's nothing. My bad leg...”

“Shit,” Esca snaps with a scowl. “Come up here with me,” he says, holding Marcus' elbow to help him stand. Marcus groans again, the pain a harsh reminder that the real world is still out there and that it sucks. Esca makes Marcus lay down on his side, with his head on the pillow. He checks on his soldier's hands, making sure Marcus isn't too uncomfortable, before coming around the bed and lying down facing Marcus. He lets his hand roam over the soft skin of Marcus' hip, his fingers finding the scar lower on his thigh.

“Do me a favor, and tell me when your leg bothers you, okay?”

“Why? It's just...more pain,” Marcus says with a shrug.

“It's not the same,” Esca says, lightly stroking the scar. “Do you get aroused when your injury hurts?”

“No, I can't say that I do,” Marcus has to admit.

“Alright. Then, I want to avoid _that_ pain getting in the way of _our_ fun,” Esca says.

Marcus nods, warmed to the core by Esca's concern. He decides he likes Esca's gentleness as much as his brutality. Is he the only one who gets exposed to both of the young man's facets? Fuck, he hopes so... “What happens now?”

“What do you want to happen?” Esca replies.

Marcus licks his lips and takes a moment to think. What he wants isn't complicated, and it's something he's wanted for a while now. This is his chance.

“I want to be close to you; your body against mine,” Marcus answers, not caring if it sounds corny. “I want to touch you, hold you...” he adds, the look in Esca's eyes telling Marcus the young man likes the idea.

Esca dives into his neck and presses his thigh against Marcus' hard-on. Marcus rolls his hips, shamelessly humping Esca's leg as the young man bites into his trapezius. He moans as the spark of pain travels to his cock.

Next, Esca's pawing at his wrists, blindly looking for the buckle. He finds it and gets it undone, his gaze meeting Marcus' as his arms are freed. Marcus doesn't waste a second, he wraps his arm around Esca, pulling him impossibly closer, until their stomachs and chests are flush. Esca's bare skin feels amazing against his, and Marcus growls, slipping his other arm under the young man to hold him even tighter.

“Easy there, big guy,” Esca groans, struggling to breathe in Marcus' strong embrace. Marcus huffs, and relaxes his hold a little, letting his arm slip down around Esca's slim waist. His other hand settles behind Esca's neck, his fingers playing with the short hair for the first time. Of course, it's as soft as silk.

“Please, bite me again,” he begs, turning his head to the side, offering his neck to Esca.

Esca tilts his head, as if considering the demand. His hand moves from the small of Marcus' back to his ass, which he gropes roughly, ducking his head to lick along Marcus' collarbone. Soon, his teeth sink into Marcus, who feels as if his blood has just turned into lava.

Esca sneaks his fingers between Marcus' ass cheeks, finding his asshole and rubbing it. Marcus groans at the rough handling of such an intimate part of him, but he doesn't stop it. Esca wedges his thigh between Marcus' legs, allowing him to better grind his erection into it. Esca's other hand somehow ends up on Marcus' chest, plucking at his nipple.

Marcus loves that there aren’t any props between them. No ropes, no riding crop, no tape, no gloves, no whip. Just Esca's body. The teeth marking his neck, the digit probing his dry asshole, the fingers twisting his nipple, Esca's sweat slick skin sliding against his, the firm muscles of his thigh providing perfect friction; Marcus feels like he's on fire. He wants it to last, but he's overwhelmed and quickly snaps. Esca must be feeling it because he murmurs quiet words of encouragement against the flushed skin of his neck. Marcus trembles, his pelvis moving erratically as he forcefully rocks his hips a few more times, his cock pulsing against Esca's thigh as pleasure barrels through him.

He moans Esca's name, his seed coating Esca's thigh, leaving it slick, and _fuck_ , that's even better. The slide of his cock aided by his own cum, he gives a few more thrusts, and a last shuddering breath against Esca's damp temple.

Esca pets Marcus' reddened cheek, Marcus catching the subdued smile on his lips as he speaks. “Even more gorgeous after you come...” he murmurs fondly. Marcus, light-headed by the strength of his orgasm, leans in for a kiss Esca gladly allows.

Esca eventually turns over on his back, Marcus laying his head in the crook of his arm and wrapping one arm across Esca's middle, his limbs heavy and his mind clouded by the afterglow. Neither man pays attention to the mess they've just made.

For a while, Marcus ponders what tonight means for the future. What will happen now that Esca has broken his own rules? Was this just a fluke, the result of a coincidence and Esca being upset and drunk? Or would it pave the way for more meetings of this sort?

He wants to ask, but he chickens out multiple times. He gives up when he realizes that Esca's asleep, his breathing slow and even. He could ask tomorrow, right?

Marcus wants to stay awake, to savor having Esca next to him. He holds on for as long as he can, admiring Esca's profile, but he's exhausted, and thoroughly sated, and he falls asleep, stretched on what used to be Cottia's side of the bed, the warm body next to him making him feel safe.

**

Marcus' cell phone wakes him late in the morning. He's about to answer it when he suddenly becomes aware that Esca is missing. He ignores the call, slips out of bed and goes looking for him. As he passes in front of the mirror, Marcus notices the bruises Esca has left on his neck and shoulders the night before, the mere sight making his groin tingle pleasantly. He tears himself away from his reflection and calls out to Esca before checking each room. To Marcus' dismay, Esca and his clothes are gone. Marcus sits back down on the bed, and flops back into the mattress, sighing dejectedly, running his fingertips over the bite marks on his neck.


	7. Chapter 7

Marcus doesn't remember to check his voicemail until much later. He listens to it as he eats his eggs and toast without any real appetite.

“Hi Marcus, it's mom. I just wanted to wish you and Cottia a happy new year! I know she has plans with her folks, but I can't wait to see you tonight. Remember to bring some wine,” he hears his mother chirp through the speaker. She has no idea Cottia's left him and he groans at the thought of having to tell her today, of all days.

However, Marcus is glad for the reminder; with his mind crowded by the amazing sex with Esca, as well as his puzzling disappearing act, Marcus could have easily forgotten the dinner, let alone the wine. _Shit...the wine_. Cottia had taken all the wine with her, and the liquor stores are closed today.

The prospect of facing his family does little to cheer up Marcus, but he finds a way to drag his feet to the bathroom to shower. He should be happy about last night, and he _is_ in most ways, but he has the feeling his life might have just become more complicated. Things had been rather simple between Esca and him, until now...

Marcus had recently come to terms with the fact he's a masochist, now he also has to rethink his sexual orientation. He already knew he wasn't averse to sexual acts with men, but he'd somehow considered himself straight. He was _sure_ he was attracted to women, and maybe it'd been easier to just fall into line with the norm of society than to admit he might like men too. Considering his strong attraction to Esca, and his utter delight in feeling the young man's lean body against his - let alone his cock in his mouth – Marcus would be in deep denial if he called it a fluke.

Esca's words from a few nights ago pop into Marcus' mind: _does it matter?_ Marcus decides that in the end, it doesn't. All he needs to know is that he's attracted to Esca no matter what labels he chooses to apply to himself.

Well at least, one thing is clear and simple: Cottia is gone, and Marcus is already moving on. He grabs Cottia's shampoo before exiting the stall, throwing the plastic bottle in the trash when he gets out.

**

Despite Marcus showing up empty handed, the dinner goes without any major issues, and no one notices the bite marks Marcus has hidden with a high collared shirt. Announcing that he and Cottia have broken up certainly puts a damper on the festivities – something Marcus wanted to avoid – but his mother had sensed Marcus' gloomy mood and he knew she wouldn't let it go until he told her why. _I gave my male dom a blowjob and loved it, and I'm upset because it might have ruined my chances of him dominating me again_ doesn't seem appropriate for the dining table, so telling her about the break up appears to be his best option.

Through the rest of the evening, Marcus has to counter his mom's numerous attempts to convince him to mend things up with Cottia.

“You two were so good together, maybe if you called and...” she says as she finishes washing a serving platter and hands it over to Marcus to wipe dry.

“Listen closely, mom,” he says firmly, raising his voice just a bit to better drive the point home. “I swear it on my father's empty grave: even if I wanted to get back together, I'm certain that she wouldn't. We're through.” Marcus feels a bit guilty about invoking his father, but it works, and his mother leaves the subject alone thereafter.

**

The next two days are close to torment to Marcus. He can't concentrate at work, or at home, the same thoughts rattling around in his head. He deeply regrets not asking questions that night, and promises himself he won't chicken out next time. His ass needs a few more days of rest before Esca will agree to cover it with more welts and bruises - the young man insists on what he calls painting on a clean canvas - but Marcus is dying to know where they stand after the other night.

Despite knowing he's not supposed to, Marcus decides to show up at the warehouse. Esca would make an exception for him, right? He sits as he always does and waits for Esca to appear to let a woman out. He immediately notices Marcus and stalks closer.

“Soldier, you have to leave,” Esca tells him calmly, hands on his hips, eyes on the dirty tiles by his feet.

“We need to talk,” Marcus mutters, earning puzzled glances from the others.

“I'm asking you to leave,” Esca repeats, turning away from Marcus, the young man acting so differently from the other night and every bit as when they'd first met. Cold and distant. He points and snaps his fingers at a young woman. “Fido, come,” he calls.

“Wait,” Marcus says sharply, jumping to his feet. “What the fuck, Es...” Marcus catches himself just in time and Esca turns around to glare at him. Fuck. Marcus had almost revealed K's true identity. He knows he just fucked up royally, and he clenches his jaw as Esca steps up to him.

“Leave, Soldier. _Now_ ,” Esca practically snarls, eyes flashing in an unusual show of anger.

Frustration blooms within Marcus; he balls his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Esca turns around and opens the door for the woman. The door shuts, and Marcus holds back his desire to run after Esca to demand an explanation. He has his answer now, doesn't he? He rubs the spot between his eyebrows and scoffs. Esca had broken all the rules, and was now tossing Marcus aside.

Marcus has the night off, and he has nowhere to go but home. He has no desire to sit alone in his apartment, so he heads to the bar for a few drinks.

**

His first stop is a crowded sports bar where he orders a burger and a beer. He receives multiple flirtatious looks, but he's not even remotely tempted. It's out of character for Marcus who's never had any issues embracing single life to the fullest. But he honestly just wants Esca. No one else. That makes him angry all over again. How dare Esca barge into his personal life like that and then refuse to see him?

Marcus lacks the enthusiasm to drink enough to get plowed around strangers. He quickly moves on and ends up just walking home, his frustration barely dulled by the alcohol. Thankfully, Cottia had left the bourbon and the rye. He pours himself a shot and downs it. He then pours another, hoping it'll help silence the ongoing noise in his mind that no doubt will keep him from falling asleep. He leaves the glass on the counter – who needs it – and keeps the bottle on the hardwood floor, right next to his armchair and settles down in front of the television.

It's around nine when someone rings his doorbell. Marcus has no idea who it could be, but he answers the call anyway.

“Yeah?” he grunts into the intercom.

“Marcus? it's me.” Marcus recognizes Esca's voice through the speaker. His heart flutters in his chest, but anger still burns in the pit of his stomach. “What do you want?” he asks, trying to sound neutral.

“I want to talk,” Esca answers simply.

“You said all you needed to say, K,” Marcus retorts, avoiding using the other man's real name on purpose.

“No. I haven't,” Esca counters. “Let me in and hear me out.”

Marcus sighs and taps his forehead against the wall three times.

“ _Please_ ,” Esca adds; the plea is enough to make Marcus want to buzz him in.

**

Marcus closes the door behind Esca, then crosses his arms and waits, staring at the floor. If he stares at Esca's handsome face for too long, he might lose his nerve.

“It's cold out. May I have a cup of tea?” Esca asks in a soft tone that makes Marcus weak in the knees.

“You and your tea,” Marcus grumbles, rolling his eyes. “How about some whiskey?”

Esca shrugs. “Alright.”

Marcus leaves him standing just inside the door, making a point of not taking the young man's jacket. Esca hangs it on a hook, toes off his boots and then follows Marcus to the living room, which is still empty but for the television and an armchair. Marcus sits in it and Esca is left to stand. Marcus scoops up the bottle from the floor, takes a sip, and then unceremoniously hands it to Esca.

“Are you drunk?” Esca asks.

“Not nearly enough,” Marcus replies with a sigh.

Esca takes a couple of sips, Marcus avoiding looking at him as he stares at the television without really seeing it. Marcus can feel the other man's gaze on him and he tries to ignore the warmth that seeps through his whole body.

Suddenly, Esca drops to his knees, right in front of Marcus. “I'm sorry,” he utters giving the bottle back to Marcus, who stares into Esca's eyes, searching for signs of deception there, in vain. Could there be hope that Esca changed his mind and decided to take him back? “I don't want you to come to the warehouse anymore,” Esca adds, destroying the little bits of hope Marcus had just scraped together.

“You're an asshole, you know that?” Marcus scoffs. _Sorry my ass_. “What kind of games are you playing?” he growls, thinking he should just throw Esca out.

“Because of complications in the past, I decided to keep my personal life separate from my S&M life. That's what the first rule is about,” Esca starts explaining, calm despite Marcus' ill humor.

“And now that you broke your precious rule, you're kicking me to the curb to keep your two lives separate. I get it. Now, leave,” Marcus says tightly, drinking some whiskey to give himself some countenance.

“I still want to see you. Just not like that. Not like before,” the young man continues.

“What do you mean?” Marcus asks, perking up a little but still cautious.

“I can't have you come to the warehouse anymore. Not without breaking the rules. I don't want to make you wait in line to see me,” Esca explains earnestly. “And I have every intention of fucking you,” he adds in a low voice, tilting his head and placing one of his hands on Marcus' knee.

It feels like the bottom of Marcus' stomach dropped to the apartment below. Had Esca just said he wanted to _fuck_ him? Marcus isn't quite able to wrap his head around that tidbit, not just yet, but his cock is definitely interested. _Very_ interested. “You could have just said so earlier,” Marcus grumbles, trying to repress the intense heat rising to his cheeks.

“I couldn't. I hadn't decided yet. Even if I had, I wouldn't have said so in front of the others,” Esca explains. “Look, you _did_ show up uninvited. I told you not before you're fully healed. You almost said my bloody name!” Esca grumbles, his voice rising at the end.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to do that...” Marcus says sheepishly, knowing he'd been careless. “Why did you leave without saying a damn word the other morning?” Marcus asks, his irritation returning at the thought. After all, if Esca hadn't sneaked out like a thief, Marcus wouldn't have had to go to the warehouse for answers. Well, maybe. He could totally picture himself backing down, even in the morning. His anger shrinks to a barely noticeable simmer.

“I shouldn't have done that... ” Esca's voice trails as he finds the right words. “I was very confused. It was all so... unexpected. I wasn't sure if it'd been a mistake, and I bailed like a coward. I'm really sorry. I want to make it up to you,” Esca maintains, sliding his hand up Marcus' thigh, venturing closer to his groin.

To have Esca so close, on his knees, touching him and begging to make it up to him is making Marcus giddy. Esca shifts, comfortably settling between Marcus' spread legs. He rubs the top of Marcus' thighs and gazes into Marcus' green eyes, waiting for a verdict.

“How does it feel to be begging on your knees?” Marcus asks through a smirk. He's already decided he'll forgive Esca and give him a second chance, but it feels right to make him grovel a bit.

Esca shrugs. “It's not bad. There's a first for everything.” Esca smiles crookedly before nuzzling into Marcus' inner thigh.

“A _first_?” Marcus asks, arching an eyebrow.

Esca confirms this with a hum against Marcus' inseam, the vibrations raising goosebumps all over his body.

“Bullshit,” Marcus quips.

Esca lifts his head. “My natural inclination is to make other people do the kneeling.”

Marcus scoffs. He didn't doubt that for a minute, but never?

Esca frowns. “What? You think I'm lying?”

Marcus shrugs. “Never been on your knees for anyone? It's hard to believe.”

“I've never begged any of my clients to let me make anything up to them,” Esca says. “I don't take requests for more touching, nor do I let people interrupt another client's session. I'd never bound a cock before yours. I don't dismiss a client so I can drive another home. I don't give my subs safewords, and I don't give them my real name either,” he tells Marcus with conviction, his words making pleasant warmth curl inside Marcus' chest.

“After the way I acted, I know it might be hard to believe, but you're special to me,” Esca adds sincerely, Marcus' breath hitching at the words. He'd wanted to be special to Esca ever since he'd met the mysterious young man.

“Oh, I have something for you,” Esca suddenly announces, his eyes sparkling. He jumps to his feet and gets his coat from the rack. He reaches into the inside pocket, pulls out an object from it, then kneels back down. At first, Marcus thinks Esca is holding a belt, but it's way too short.

Esca turns the leather strap in his hands and presents it to Marcus. “It's, uh...it's not much, and it's not perfect, but I made it. For you,” he explains before handing it over to Marcus.

It's a dark brown leather collar - the same shade as the riding crop Marcus had bought. Marcus runs his thumb over the smooth surface, then looks at Esca with a small frown.

“I started making it after we met on Christmas,” Esca reveals. “After you left tonight, I realized I might never see you again. I hurried my sessions and I went home to finish it. Then I came here,” he continues as Marcus silently examines the workmanship for long seconds during which Esca seems to grow nervous. “You don't have to wear it if you don't like it...”

Marcus shakes his head, glancing at Esca, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I like it,” he tells the young man. Heat fills Marcus' gut as Esca's lips finally curve into a full smile. “But... I've read about this. Seems a little, uh, sudden, don't you think?” Marcus asks.

“You mean _collaring_?” Esca asks, his expression sobering. Marcus nods, already missing Esca's smile. “You're not planning on seeing another dom, are you?” Esca inquires, still nervous.

“No.” The thought hadn't even crossed Marcus' mind.

“Good. We could agree that accepting the collar means I'm the only one allowed to dominate you and that you'll give me a chance to know you, and you, me. I was planning on writing _Soldier_ on it, but I changed my mind. I want more than an anonymous relationship with you.”

“Do you mean you want to _date_ me?” Marcus asks, his green eyes widening.

“Dates would be involved, yes, among other things...” Esca drawls with an impish glint in his gray eyes, Marcus marveling at how expressive they can be when Esca doesn't hide behind a mask. “And if you want, down the line, I can carve something else on it. When we know each other better.”

“I'd love to wear it,” Marcus whispers, watching the last remnants of nervousness disappear from the other man's features. He brings the collar to his own neck, eager to try it on without further delay.

“Wait,” Esca blurts out. “Let me...”

“How do you want to do this?” Marcus asks, flashing Esca a seductive smile, the simple question marking a shift in their dynamic; Marcus wants Esca to take the lead, and the young man senses it.

Esca rises to his feet, eyes darkening as he holds Marcus' gaze. “Strip,” he commands hoarsely, looking down at his soldier.

Eager to feel Esca's eyes on his bare body, Marcus slips out of the armchair to remove his t-shirt and pants, his half-erect cock springing out when he pushes down his underwear. Esca takes a moment to leer at him before stepping up. Marcus can see the arousal in Esca's eyes, he can feel his quick breaths on his shoulder as he places the leather against Marcus' throat. Esca slips the end into the brass buckle and secures the collar, making sure it's not too tight, then he gazes at Marcus' profile, one hand lingering over the buckle, his thumb gently petting the short hair in the back of his head.

“How do I look?” Marcus asks. Esca's silence makes him turn his head, his whole body tingling as the collar rubs against his skin.

Esca slips his hand down Marcus' back, looking him over from head to toe. “Never better,” he answers, the hungry look in his eyes predatory; Marcus wants nothing more than to let him pounce on him.

“What's next?” Marcus inquires.

Esca swallows hard and clears his throat. “I want to hurt you,” he says quietly, sending sparks of lust and excitement through Marcus.

“Whatever happened to making it up to me?” he teases.

“That's exactly what I mean to do...” Esca whispers. “You like it when I hurt you. It makes you hard just thinking about it. Look...” he says, looking down at Marcus' cock and nudging it once with a finger.

Esca's right, of course. Marcus is already fully hard, thanks to Esca's words, and it sways slightly at Esca's quick touch.

“Kneel,” Esca demands in a low growl. As soon as Marcus' knees hit the floor, Esca grasps him by the hair and forces his cheek against the bulge in his jeans, roughly pressing Marcus' face to his erection with a groan of relief.

Marcus glances up when his hair is released. Esca pats his head, then quickly reaches for his jacket again, digging into the pockets until he finds what he's looking for. Marcus observes with interest, but Esca doesn't show him what he's holding in his hand. “I want to see you crawl to your bed...” he purrs.

Marcus doesn't remember being this turned on when he'd tried pet play with another dom, a while back. But doing it for Esca makes even the feel of the cold hard floor on his knees and palms erotic, and his cock throbs as he heads to his own bedroom on all fours, Esca following him closely.

“Make a good show of it,” Esca pipes up behind him. Marcus sways his hips to show off his ass, and rolls his shoulders, making sure the muscles of his back ripple. He hears Esca swear under his breath, and drawing that reaction from him makes Marcus inordinately happy.

He stops by the bed, waiting for direction. Esca grabs the collar and tugs on it, Marcus climbing onto the mattress, his groin tingling as the leather digs into his throat. “Lay down on your back,” Esca instructs. “Got any rope?” he asks, wincing when Marcus shakes his head negatively. “Okay. Where do you keep your neckties then?”

“Inside the closet door,” Marcus answers, sounding breathless already. He stretches his body over the comforter while Esca makes his way to the closet and selects a few ties. Marcus risks a hand between his thighs, cupping his balls and pressing his cock to his belly. He lets out a breathy groan and hears Esca clucking his tongue at him.

“Hands off,” Esca says, without anger or annoyance before returning to Marcus' side.

He unhurriedly binds one of Marcus' wrists to the headboard. “Remember your safeword,” he tells Marcus as he fastens his other wrist. “Otherwise, I'll do as I please.”

“Got it,” Marcus pipes up, eyes trained on Esca's hands as he loops another necktie around his ankle, tying it to the bed frame.

“How is it?” Esca asks when he's done.

Marcus looks down at himself and pulls on his bonds, noting how different the silky material feels against his skin compared to the usual ropes. “Good,” he answers. He's aroused and nervous, impatient to get started, but Esca's calm demeanor is wonderfully soothing; he's in control and he'll make sure Marcus enjoys himself. All Marcus needs to do is lay there. He lets his head sink back into the pillow and exhales loudly.

Esca pulls what he's been hiding out of his jean pocket and shows it to Marcus; there's a pair of silver nipple clamps equipped with small screws in his palm. Their tips are covered with rubber, and a small silver chain connects them.

“Oh...” Marcus utters, eyes glued to the objects as Esca places them on the corner of the nightstand. His heavy cock twitches and bounces against his stomach, his pulse picking up as Esca's plans for him are finally becoming clear. Esca had mentioned the clamps before, hadn't he?

But for now, Esca leaves the clamps alone and sits next to Marcus, his gray eyes glinting longingly as they rove over Marcus' body. “Beautiful,” he comments as he begins exploring Marcus' body with his hands. He kneads the muscles of his arms, gropes his pectorals, caresses his belly with genuine delight.

“I wish I'd brought more than just the collar and the clamps,” Esca murmurs regretfully, as he strokes Marcus' inner thighs, and brushes his fingertips over the soft skin of his hips. “God, the things you make me want to do to you...”

Marcus hadn't realized how starved he was for Esca's touch, Esca's praise. He keeps his eyes on the young man, catching every expressions of fondness and lust in his face. Esca slowly leans in for a kiss, Marcus' cock throbbing with the need for attention.

The kiss is soft and wet, and Esca runs his fingers through Marcus' hair, pulling back a little to whisper, “Ready, Soldier?”

Marcus' yes is small and hoarse, but Esca must deem it an adequate answer, because he pushes back and sets about slapping Marcus' chest, alternating the left and right side, until the skin reddens and Marcus lets go of the breath he'd been holding.

“Breathe. Slow, deep breaths,” Esca urges before smacking Marcus' thighs, leaving them flushed and burning with low heat. He licks his fingers before wrapping them around Marcus' erection and stroking it slowly. Marcus lifts his pelvis off the bed with a pleased groan that makes Esca talk through his smirk. “So hard for me already...”

Esca continues jacking Marcus with one hand, as he slaps his flat stomach with the other, striking the tensed abdominal muscles with his open palm, until the smarting becomes too sharp for Marcus to hold back his groans. Esca runs his fingers over the sore skin, dragging his nails across it, and drawing hisses from Marcus before seeking and circling each of his already rock hard nipples.

Marcus croons as Esca tongues and sucks the small nubs lightly. A bite makes him jerk his hips up, as one single, desperate word escapes his lips: “More.”

Esca seems happy to oblige, biting harder then soothing the pain with soft licks, letting go of Marcus' cock to pinch the other neglected nipple between his forefinger and thumb. He kisses Marcus more hungrily, fingers cruelly plucking at his nipples and he devours his mouth, Marcus unable to do anything but whimper and uselessly hump the air.

Esca retreats and picks up the nipple clamps.

Marcus had almost forgotten about those. He's never tried them before; sure he'd enjoyed the rough way in which Esca had treated his nipples a few weeks back, but _clamps_? His pulse races, and his breath shortens, his audible pants drawing Esca's attention. The young man cups the side of his face, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone and hushing him.

“Breathe,” Esca murmurs, still caressing his cheek.

Marcus takes a few deep breaths under Esca's approving gaze. “I know you, Marcus. I think you will like this,” he assures him, pressing a small gentle kiss to Marcus' forehead. Marcus nods and looks on as Esca applies the first clamp to his nipple; Marcus groans as it bites into him sharply.

The pain remains constant after dulling a bit, but Esca gives Marcus little time to recover and puts the second clamp in place, the short chain resting loosely across Marcus' chest. Esca reminds him to breathe, and then wraps his hand around his cock once more – to distract him, or reward him, Marcus isn't sure, but it feels heavenly and that's all that matters.

Marcus tries to heed Esca's advice, dutifully breathing in and out as the sensations blend, the ache on his nipples somehow matching up the lingering sting on his chest, belly and thighs. Whenever he moves, the clamps sway a little, their weight pulling on his nipples and sending sparks down Marcus' body, straight to his cock, which Esca's still stroking slowly.

Marcus relaxes into the mattress, a strange hazy feeling coming over him. He cannot repress the moan that escapes his lips as pleasure rapidly pools inside his gut. He closes his eyes, concentrating on Esca's soft hand jerking him off, and the steady pressure on his nipples, not caring if it means he might come within the minute.

“Not yet, Soldier,” Esca warns with a quick jerk of the chain that sends a sharp jolt of pain across his whole chest; Marcus cries out, his head snapping forward as he pulls on his bonds. He bites his bottom lip, then looks at Esca whose forefinger is still hooked to the chain, his other hand rubbing his own erection through his jeans. _Oh god, yes_. Marcus had seen Esca aroused before, but he'd never caught the young man caressing himself openly. Seeing Esca touching his own cock as he watches Marcus being a pain slut for him turns Marcus on so much, he'd come now if Esca hadn't broken the spell by tugging the chain.

After a moment, Esca pulls off his shirt, Marcus loving the way his lean muscles play under his pale skin as he moves. He shifts and straddles one of Marcus' spread legs, leaning forward, obviously meaning to press his face to Marcus' crotch. Marcus impatiently rolls up his hips to meet him, Esca planting his nose into Marcus' pubic hair, his cheek pressing against the side of Marcus' cock.

“Oh god,” Marcus whispers. Is Esca planning to take Marcus' cock in his mouth? _Fuck_. If he does it, Marcus highly doubts he will be able to last, because this is something he'd fantasized about numerous times, thinking he was a complete fool for doing so.

The slide of Esca's warm, wet tongue up the underside of his erection makes Marcus buck and moan. But Esca continues on, beyond his cock, kissing Marcus' belly and leaving trails of saliva that feelsl cool on Marcus' sore skin. He lets Marcus grind his hard-on against him as he licks the taut skin around Marcus' clamped nipples.

Marcus is kissed again, the young man nipping and pulling at Marcus' bottom lip before making his way down Marcus' neck and chest, tracing the curves and angles of his body with tongue and teeth.

Esca cups Marcus' balls, massaging them as he slides his spit slick lips along his shaft before taking the glans into his mouth. Marcus swears out loud and looks down, finding Esca staring up at him with heated gray eyes, his lips wrapped around his cock. The sight sends electricity down Marcus' spine.

Esca suckles and teases Marcus' cock head with the tip of his tongue, until Marcus begs him to take him into his mouth. He doesn't waste time; he pushes down, letting himself sink down further onto Marcus' cock. When almost all of Marcus' length has been swallowed, Esca pauses, his hand still cradling his sack, squeezing lightly and tugging at it. Not yet, Esca had said; Marcus breathes in and out, trying to curb the oncoming rush of pleasure.

“Fuck, Esca... I'm so close,” he warns, his cock already throbbing dangerously against Esca's tongue.

Esca's hand closes around Marcus' balls, clutching them even tighter, crossing the line over to discomfort. Marcus gasps, trembling under Esca's handling. He's worried, he really is, but stopping Esca doesn't even cross his mind. After a few long seconds, Esca relents, and Marcus lets his head fall back, the impending orgasm having receded.

Esca gets a hold of the chain and sucks harder. He pulls the chain lightly, the burst of pain making Marcus' hips rock upward of their own volition, and his cock hitting the back of Esca's throat. Esca's too fucking good at this, and Marcus concentrates on holding back to make it last longer.

Suddenly, Esca pulls the chain _hard_ , the clamps coming right off of his nipples. Marcus cries out in agony and bucks wildly, thrashing in his bonds, while Esca grips his hips to hold him down as he struggles to keep sucking his cock. For a few seconds, the pain wins, but soon, it fades, and pleasure tips the scales again; it's all Marcus needs, the surge of pain having rendered his mind blank and stolen his ability to control his body's responses.

He arches off the bed, his cock pulsating against Esca's tongue. He wraps his fingers around the material holding his wrists, desperately trying to gain leverage to better thrust up as pleasure rushes through him, his seed pouring out and filling Esca's sexy mouth.

Esca sucks Marcus' cock through it all and swallows every drop, until Marcus' body starts to relax, and his orgasm finally wanes.

Esca slips off his cock, licking his lips and humming as if he's just tasted something especially yummy. He kneels alongside Marcus' chest, as close as he can without actually being on top of him. He quickly unzips his jeans and shoves them down, pulling his cock out. Even though Marcus has just climaxed, the sight of Esca's dick, hard and leaking precum, sends sparks of desire down his loins. Shit, did he even have an off switch when it came to Esca?

Still a bit breathless and rattled by the strength of his release, Marcus looks on, enthralled, as Esca pumps his own cock, holding on to the headboard for balance. He obviously means to come all over Marcus' chest.

“Untie my hand,” Marcus requests, his voice rough.

Esca raises an eyebrow at him, but he does as Marcus asks, quickly releasing Marcus' right wrist. As soon as he's free, Marcus seizes Esca's cock, his green eyes flicking from Esca's face to his cock, delighting in watching Esca's demise; the alluring way in which his muscles move under his fair skin, the way his pale chest splotches with pink, the way Esca's right hand pets his own belly before dipping lower to cup the base of his cock while Marcus continues to pump it.

Before long, Esca places his hand over Marcus', urging him to go faster. Red cheeked and panting, he tips his head back, baring his graceful neck to Marcus who drinks it all in. He's quite simply in awe as the young man's balls tighten before his cock bursts in his hand, spurts of his cum landing on Marcus' chin and on his chest.

Marcus lets go of Esca's softening member, dropping his hand on Esca's thigh. Esca picks it up and places a delicate kiss into his palm, with his eyes closed, the gentleness and reverence in the gesture making Marcus' eyes prickle with tears. He feels as if all his emotions, good and bad, are lurking right beneath his skin, and it frightens him. What the hell is wrong with him?

Esca tucks himself back into his pants, leans over to undo the knot around Marcus' other wrist, then crawls toward the end of the bed.

Marcus sits up. “Hold me,” he whispers, his voice cracking as tears threaten to spill, while Esca untie his ankles.

Esca doesn't waste anymore time than he has to and asks no questions; he comes back to Marcus' side, settling into the crook of Marcus' open arm and slipping his own arm around the soldier's solid middle. Marcus leans back down, tightly encircling Esca's shoulders and pulling him closer. Esca hooks a leg over Marcus' shin and sighs contentedly.

Marcus concentrates on the points of contact, the parts of him that touch Esca, the warmth of his body, his fingertips stroking his side soothingly. He tries to match the rhythm of his own breath to the steady puffs of Esca's on his chest. He releases a shaky breath, the swirling emotions settling down a bit with each breath he takes while holding on to Esca.

After a long, quiet moment, Esca shift against him. “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” Marcus answers with a long exhale. He observes as Esca grabs an old t-shirt hanging off the footboard, and uses it to wipe his come off Marcus. With that out of the way, Esca settles back down and lets his legs tangle with Marcus' as they hold each other again. Marcus _really_ likes this. It's as if he's found a missing piece to the puzzle his personal life has become.

“So, tell me... Did I make it up to you?” Esca asks, his temple pressed to Marcus'.

“Consider yourself forgiven and absolved of all wrongdoing,” Marcus mumbles, sensing Esca's smile on his cheek.

“You were amazing,” Esca comments.

“Me? I didn't do anything...” Marcus huffs.

“Not true. The way you take everything I give you... that's not nothing,” Esca replies.

“Why did you refuse me, the first time I went to the warehouse?” Marcus asks, suddenly. There are so many gaps to fill and he's sick of being afraid to ask questions.

“My clients are exclusively referred to me by other doms,” Esca reveals.

“I see. What changed your mind?”

“Well... you persisted. That's always a good sign. And I was impressed by your looks, your physique...” Esca says, his eyes sweeping Marcus' body meaningfully.

“Really? You didn't look impressed. Not at all,” Marcus comments with a chuckle, remembering the cold way in which Esca had treated him that day.

Esca huffs and smirks. “I'm good at keeping my emotions off my face. Part of the job. I thought you looked good enough to be, uh, I don't know, a male stripper,” Esca says, grinning.

Marcus barks out a laugh, the tip of his ears turning pink. “And I thought you looked like a model in one of those high fashion magazine ads...” he admits, trying to keep that dopey grin off his face. “Is attractiveness usually a criteria?”

“No. Well, you've seen some of the others. The most important factor is that they really are aroused by receiving pain. Otherwise, I draw very little satisfaction from it,” Esca explains.

“So you decided to test me,” Marcus says, thinking of the slaps Esca had given him, and the way it had turned him on.

“Yes, and you showed all the right responses.”

“You could tell I liked it.” Marcus isn't surprised by that; Esca had proven he was observant and an expert at reading body language.

“Easily. I also could tell you were quite new to this, very nervous, and scared, but I liked that you were spunky through it all,” Esca continues.

The answers help settle that strange feeling of uneasiness that came from being left in the dark this whole time. Marcus finally knows what Esca had thought then, and Marcus feels a little lighter somehow. “What happened to you on New Year's Eve? To upset you so much, I mean,” Marcus asks, fully prepared for Esca to refuse to talk about it.

“It's a bit of a long story...” Esca started.

“You don't have to... I'm just curious. It seemed serious,” Marcus says cautiously.

Esca shifts so he can look into Marcus' eyes. “No, I _want_ to tell you,” he says before licking his lips. Marcus waits patiently as the other man seems to be gathering his thoughts.

“My work... I run a large company called Brigantes Industries. We have our fingers in a lot of pies, but it's mostly medical equipment. It's a family business, my dad started it before I was born. When I turned twenty-one, I received my shares from my uncle, who ran the company after my father died. His health is poor now, so his son, Liathan, is taking his place on the board. On New Year's Eve, at the party, Liathan threatened to tell the board of my little hobby at the warehouse.”

“He knows?” Marcus asks. “That's none of their business,” he adds immediately, wrinkling his nose.

Esca winces. “You might think so, but if a member of the board's behavior brings negative light to the company, the members have the right to vote him off. This company, it's all I have left from my father. I can't let it go.”

Marcus understands how Esca could feel guilty about his penchant for sadomasochism, seeing how it could ruin his chances of keeping his father's legacy alive. That was where he'd gotten the idea that he was a bad human being. “What will you do?” he asks gently.

“I have a month to decide, but I may have to give up the warehouse,” Esca answers with a sigh.

“I'm sorry,” Marcus mumbles, worry twisting his stomach. Would Esca have to give _him_ up too? He hates the idea, but how could Marcus compete with a father's legacy probably worth millions of dollars?

Esca shakes his head. “It can't be helped. And besides, I still have you, right?” he asks, leaning closer but letting Marcus close the distance to kiss him.

“Yes. You have me,” Marcus confirms, his grin returning as his worry evaporates as quickly as it had materialized.

“When do you have the night off again?” Esca asks as he settles back on the pillow.

“Not until Sunday,” Marcus answers regretfully.

“Are you free for lunch on Thursday?” Esca asks, idly running a finger along the collar on Marcus' throat.

“Yeah, I think so,” Marcus muses, his mind still too foggy to be one hundred percent sure.

“Perfect,” Esca says with a small smile.

Marcus just stares at him blankly for a few seconds. “Wait...Was that you asking me out on a date?” he asks, repressing a grin as his heart flutters in his chest.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was,” the young man replies. “Was that you accepting?”

Marcus chuckles. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure...”


	8. Chapter 8

Marcus is nervous about meeting Esca for lunch. The young man had insisted on picking him up and had refused to tell him where they were going. Marcus would hate to find himself in a fancy restaurant where he wouldn't know which fork to use to eat minuscule portions of unpronounceable dishes. More importantly, he's afraid they won't have much to say to each other.

Eating lunch with Esca turns out to be a surprisingly laid back affair. He takes Marcus to a small casual restaurant he swears has the best burgers within miles. They mostly share stories about work, starting to reveal small parts of themselves, even though they'd shared darker, very intimate secrets for a while now.

Observing Esca interact with other people, seeing him in broad daylight – in the sun – is absolutely fascinating. In contrast with his behavior at the warehouse, Esca is animated, prone to smiles and laughter, and _very_ passionate about food.

Marcus is holding his burger in front of his mouth, poised to eat. But he stops and smiles, watching as Esca bites into his own burger with gusto, closing his eyes and humming contentedly as he slowly chews.

Esca opens his eyes, noticing Marcus smiling at him. “What?”

“You've got...uh,” Marcus mumbles, gesturing to his own face to let Esca know he's got juices running down his chin.

“Oh,” Esca exclaims, suddenly self-conscious, reaching for his napkin and dabbing the mess. He doesn't miss a step and eats two more large bites before noticing that Marcus isn't eating.

“Something wrong?” Esca asks, frowning.

Marcus huffs. “No, no... It's just that you're so different from...you know,” he explains.

Esca shrugs. “It's a role I play, something my clients respond well to. Being detached also protects me from getting personally involved,” he says. “Well, in most cases...” he adds, smirking at Marcus over his hamburger.

Marcus understands. He'd stopped playing the role of sergeant when he stepped off the battlefield. Yet, it's so easy and natural for him to slip back into the soldier role, Marcus believes that it's an integral part of who he is. Getting personally involved had made him risk his life when common sense dictated a different course of action. _Reckless_. _Dangerous_. _Suicidal_. Words his superiors had used to describe his deeds that day, although most people would just call it heroic. Marcus didn't regret saving the lives of his fellow soldiers, but he did regret losing what gave his life meaning.

“My injury is a constant reminder that getting personally involved can get you hurt, but it can also pay off,” Marcus replies. “And that role you play so well, it can't be completely foreign to you. K is part of who you are.”

“Very insightful,” he utters after considering Marcus' words for a moment. He chews another bite, and Marcus finally tries it for himself. It doesn't surprise Marcus one bit that Esca is right: the burger is delicious, and it's so juicy, he has to use his napkin too.

**

After a delicious meal and a couple of fine beers, Marcus feels like it's time to go. After all, he'd been invited to lunch, and they'd done just that. He wishes he could spend the whole day getting to know Esca like this. “I'm guessing you gotta go back to work,” he mumbles, resigned.

Esca purses his lips and shakes his head. “No. Done for the day. Unless there's an emergency. But there's hardly ever any. I mean some of my staff may think they've got a crisis on their hands, but as a rule of thumb, anything that can be resolved over the phone is _not_ an emergency.”

“Oh,” Marcus utters, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of asking Esca to spend more time with him today.

Esca takes another sip of his beer before leaning over the table with a knowing smirk. “What's on your mind?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Marcus replies with small shrug, looking around the small restaurant and sipping his beer, trying to act nonchalant. He knows it's probably useless to deny it. Shit, Esca is so perceptive, he probably can hear the gears turning inside Marcus' head.

“Marcus...” Esca says quietly, drawing Marcus' gaze back to him. “Talk to me,” he says, his tone serious but still serene.

Marcus clears his throat. “Well, I thought... I wanted...” he tries, huffing in frustration at his own floundering. You'd think he was an awkward teenager all over again “I was hoping we'd hang out some more. I mean, beyond just lunch, you know?” he finally admits.

“Sounds great. Want to see my place?” Esca asks brightly.

Seeing how quickly and easily Esca had responded, Marcus feels a bit silly for being so nervous. After all, Esca had expressed his desire for getting to know Marcus. He'd been the one to ask Marcus on a date. “Yeah, I'd like that,” Marcus says, nonetheless amazed by Esca's offer.

“Let's go, then,” Esca pipes up before finishing his beer and throwing a few crisp bills on the table, Marcus following suit with butterflies in his stomach.

**

Marcus already knows Esca is wealthy, so that he owns a house in a ritzy neighborhood isn't really a surprise. He expected that. He also expected that Esca's place would be neat and bare, modern and minimalistic. He'd been wrong about that.

The shelves of the living room are packed with vinyl records and books, the volumes overflowing into piles on the floor. The color scheme is warm, when Marcus had imagined everything in black and white with grays. Esca walks them through the spacious dining room and a well stocked kitchen, leading them to large patio doors that offer a view of the backyard and its pool, now covered in snow.

As they walk deeper into the house, Esca mentions that he employs a gardener who takes care of the yard during the summer, and a maid who comes once a week. “She doesn't get to go in here, though,” Esca says, pulling his keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. He steps in and holds the door open, gesturing for Marcus to come in.

Marcus suspected Esca might have a room where he keeps all his BDSM gear. Not only that, he also owns power tools to build his own props and implements. It makes sense, seeing how Esca had made the cat-o-nine tails and Marcus' collar himself. There are pieces of leather, chains, hooks, even lumber; all kept very neatly, according to size or color.

In front of an exposed brick wall at the back of the room, there's what looks like a rudimentary chair bolted to an elevated wooden dais that Esca had also probably built. Esca is leaning on the work bench by the door, watching as Marcus takes it all in.

“This is where I work,” Esca announces.

“Most people just have an office, you know, with computers and a printer, a scanner...” Marcus says teasingly.

“I have one of those too. Next door on the right,” Esca retorts, jabbing his thumb toward the hall behind him with a smirk. “I sometimes build furniture.”

“I'm guessing you don't make coffee tables...”

“I never made one, but who knows? Maybe if someone needed a bondage coffee table...” Esca answers facetiously. “What I build is sort of rough, and functional. I do it for a few doms I know, and myself.”

Rough and functional makes sense. Esca's dungeon had been that, if nothing else. Marcus looks over a few notes pinned to a cork board. Right in the corner, he sees the small note he'd written for Esca, weeks ago. His measurements. “You kept that?”

“Sure. How else would I have been able to build _that_ for you?” Esca asks nodding toward the chair.

Marcus approaches it, running his fingertips over the wood, finding it softer than he thought. Esca had obviously sanded it. There's padding on the seat and in the middle of the back rest.

“Sit down, try it.” Esca suggests.

Marcus' groin throbs as he lowers himself on the narrow seat. Esca approaches, and walks around Marcus, evaluating the height. The cushion rests in the middle of Marcus' back and the narrow seat forces him to sit with his legs spread to be comfortable.

“Arms behind the bar,” Esca directs, holding on to Marcus' bicep as he rolls his shoulders back, elbows resting against the bar. Esca crouches and examines the way Marcus' body fits on the chair, when he gazes up, a small frown wrinkles his brow.

“You can get up,” he says.

Marcus swallows thickly, staying seated. “When are you going to...” Marcus sniffs, a bit nervous about asking for details. But Esca looks at him expectantly, like he wants to hear his question. “When were you planning to use this?”

Esca shrugs. “When we have time. Your day off maybe...”

“I wanna do it now,” Marcus blurts out, all the blood in his limbs flowing to his groin.

“Right now?” Esca asks, his eyebrows climbing high on his forehead. He slowly looks at the clock on the wall, then back to Marcus.“What about work?”

“I can still go to work. After...” Marcus replies.

“You can't wait, can you?” Esca whispers, cupping Marcus' chin and caressing the side of his jaw, as he peers down at him. _Fuck_. The tinge of mockery in the young man's voice makes Marcus harden some more. “Bit of a one track mind, aren't you? Can't you think of anything else to do?” Esca taunts.

“No,” Marcus answers simply. “What? You thought you'd show me all your toys and that I wouldn't want to play?” Marcus asks, waving his arm in an arc, gesturing toward the rest of the room.

“They're my toys. I decide who gets to play with them and when,” Esca declares.

“Why not now?” Marcus tries again, his voice husky.

“Tempting. But no,” Esca answers firmly. “This needs an adjustment,” he adds tapping the piece of wood laying across Marcus' back.

“It's fine,” Marcus protests.

“The backrest needs to be lowered a little. It'll put unnecessary strain on your shoulders if it's too high.”

“Is that true, or just an excuse to make me wait?”

“Both,” Esca murmurs. He reaches for Marcus' crotch, groping the now obvious outline of Marcus' erection through his jeans. “Do I need to remind you _again_ of who makes the rules?” Esca purrs in the soldier's ear as Marcus bites down his lower lip to refrain from gasping under the promising touch. But Esca straightens up and steps back. “Besides, you respond very well to delayed gratification...”

Marcus huffs, already missing the young man's touch. He doesn't insist. He knows Esca won't change his mind. _Sunday_. All he has to do is be patient and wait until Sunday. Until then, he'll have to make do with imagining what Esca will do to him.

“Come on,” Esca calls, readying to leave the room. Marcus follows him out, somewhat reluctantly. He wants to look and poke around Esca's room some more, ask questions... Later. This is only the beginning, isn't it?

They head back to the kitchen, where Esca brews an exquisite tea blend which they drink from teacups so dainty that Marcus is afraid his will shatter between his fingers if he squeezes it too tightly. When they walk through the recreation room, Esca practically has to drag Marcus away from the pool table, aided by promises of something better.

Esca takes him to his garage. Marcus can hardly believe it; in addition to his BMW, Esca owns a sleek red Jaguar F-Type, a gorgeous white Lotus Evora and – the crown jewel – a matte black Aston Martin DB9. That's roughly $300,000 in metal, rubber and genuine leather, not counting the BMW in the driveway, or any of the other toys Esca has tucked away in his garage – a boat, a motorcycle, a few bicycles and more.

“Got a British car fetish?” Marcus asks, approaching the Aston Martin to reverently slide his hand up its hood.

“British, with a side of German,” Esca replies. “Never thought of driving an American. Until recently,” Esca adds, walking behind Marcus, so close his body brushes against him.

Marcus huffs, knowing Esca isn't talking about cars anymore.

**

Esca lets Marcus drive the red Jaguar back to the bar where he works. Marcus parks the car and turns off the engine, his pulse picking up. The date had been very successful, their chemistry apparently as solid as what they shared in Esca's dungeon, and in Marcus' apartment. If this was a date with a girl, Marcus would kiss her before getting out. 

“Thank you for lunch. I had a great time,” he says, opting for a honest, direct approach.

“You're welcome,” Esca replies. His tone reminds Marcus of what Esca would say after whipping him and it pulls at his groin pleasantly.

“So, uh, well...” Marcus stammers. So much for being direct, he thinks.

Esca smiles at him, shaking his head. “You're cute when you're nervous,” he says derisively.

Marcus huffs. “Well, it was my first official date with a man, so yeah, you might want to cut me some slack...”

The humor in Esca's expression fades. He reaches for Marcus' hand and squeezes it. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take the piss out of you. I had a good time as well. I'll be counting the days til Sunday.”

 _Fuck_. Marcus wants badly to kiss Esca's lips, but he doesn't dare. “Me too,” he says instead, squeezing Esca's hand on his lap. “Gotta go,” he adds with a sigh.

“Go, then,” Esca urges him, letting go of his hand.

Marcus opens the door and steps out, Esca exiting from the passenger side at the same time. Marcus refrains from skipping as he crosses the street and looks back. Esca rolls down his window despite the cold air and waves at him before driving off with a roar of the Jaguar's powerful engine.

“Who was that?” Lutor asks as soon as Marcus comes through the door.

“Some guy I know,” he answers vaguely.

“Oh. I see. Just some _guy_ who lets you drive his _Jaguar_ ,” Lutor says sarcastically. “Could you introduce me?” he beseeches Marcus, joining his hands together pleadingly. Lutor loves everything that has an engine.

Marcus ignores the question. “He also owns a Lotus Evora and an Aston Martin DB9. I haven't had a chance to take them for a spin. _Yet_.” Marcus replies, knowing it will make his friend jealous.

“D'you think he'd let me drive one?” Lutor asks, still hopeful.

Marcus take off his jacket and shrugs “I dunno. Maybe. If you suck better cock than I do...” he says slyly.

“Oh, screw you, Aquilla,” Lutor quips with an eye roll, before getting back to work as Marcus laughs behind him. If only Lutorius knew...

As he heads to the back to put his jacket in his locker, Marcus wonders if Lutor will ever know. For the first time, Marcus considers how his best friend would react if he told him he was dating a man. As far as he knew, Lutor wasn't homophobic, and possessed an open mind. Marcus decides that Lutor will be the first one he'll tell.

 

**

Sunday had rolled around rather quickly, Marcus thinks on his way to Esca's house. He prefers not to think about how hellish it would be if he was still in the dark when it came to Esca. Knowing that Esca is attracted to him, that he's looking forward to knowing him all the while continuing to act as his dom really helps make the days go by faster.

Another factor – tangible rather than mental – is the collar Esca had given him. Marcus enjoys wearing it when he's alone, especially loving the feel of the leather around his neck as he jerks off. It's as if the collar is infused with Esca's spirit. He knows it sounds a bit crazy, but he's not able to come up with a better explanation. It's a symbol of their new relationship, one in which Marcus officially accepted Esca as his only dom, and it helps Marcus be more patient.

Marcus drives up the long driveway, parking next to the BMW. At the door, he's received by the young man wearing a dirty apron. Esca laughs at the way Marcus looks at him and explains he's cooked dinner himself.

Esca takes Marcus' coat, pausing when Marcus removes the scarf from around his neck, revealing the brown leather collar he'd given him. Wearing it hidden under his clothes in public had definitely been a thrill, and the heat he sees in Esca's gray eyes now, tells him it was a good idea on his part.

As they eat Esca's amazing spaghetti alla Carbonara, they make casual conversation, as if they're not planning to engage in highly kinky behavior later on. Every once in a while, Esca looks at Marcus through his lashes, with the ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth; it sends a shiver down Marcus' spine, and every time, Marcus gulps his wine, until he runs out.

Marcus cranes his neck, seeking a bottle he does not find. He meaningfully raises his empty glass at Esca, who takes a sip from his own glass and shakes his head. “I want you in possession of all your senses for dessert,” he says.

“May I have dessert now, then?” Marcus asks in a sultry tone he hopes will make Esca question whether he means cake or sex.

“Patience,” Esca replies easily. “I prepared something special, and I know you'll love it,” he adds, making Marcus wonder if he's talking about sweets or what's waiting for him in that room.

It turns out to be both. Marcus does love Esca's homemade cannoli, and he has no doubt he'll love whatever Esca planned for him.

**

After stripping completely, Marcus sits in the chair, a familiar blend of fear and arousal pulsing through his veins. He can't help noticing that the backrest is at a more comfortable level after Esca's small adjustment.

Esca selects a coil of rope from one of many crates, then he walks behind Marcus, who rolls his shoulders back and places the inside of his elbows against the polished wood, letting his arms dangle behind him. Esca places a rope around his torso: four rows delineating the top and bottom of his pectoral muscles, and a V-shaped row strapped around the back of his neck to form a sort of harness, similar to what Esca had done at the warehouse once before.

After securing the harness to the main post, Esca wraps the hemp rope around Marcus' right wrist three times, slipping the ends through a loop, leaving six neat rows of ropes around it. He does the same to his other wrist, then ties both ropes together around the middle post, behind Marcus. With his soldier's upper body now immobilized, Esca moves on to his lower body.

He places two loops around each thigh, very close to Marcus' groin, so close in fact that Esca's fingers brush against Marcus' balls as he makes sure the rows are flat. He ties the ends of those ropes around the middle post too. Marcus attempts to close his legs, but they don't move at all. He licks his lips nervously; Esca obviously wants him with his legs spread wide, with his cock and balls on display.

Finally, Esca ties Marcus' knees, two turns above and below each one, attaching them to the front legs of the chair. Esca takes his time, ensuring that the tightness is just right, and the tension just enough to keep Marcus in place without straining his limbs.

Esca circles around Marcus, making him feel like prey being stalked. He fetches a small bottle from a shelf and squirts a liquid that could be either lube or oil into his palm. Marcus croons happily when Esca dips his hand between his legs to give his cock a few long, slow, deliciously slick strokes before cupping his balls.

In contrast with what Esca had done at the warehouse, here he takes his time and savors every second. He runs his hands all over Marcus, as if trying to memorize every curve and detail with his sense of touch alone. At regular intervals, he pays attention to Marcus' cock, which would still stand erect even if it was given no consideration. Marcus relaxes and closes his eyes, enjoying the young man's soft hands on his skin. He inhales sharply when Esca tweaks one of his nipples, forcing him to open his eyes.

“What's all this for?” Marcus asks, as Esca smears the remaining liquid – by now Marcus is pretty sure it's oil – over his thighs, then massaging it into his chest and abs.

“You're gorgeous. Do I need a better reason to touch you?” Esca asks in reply. He steps back, swallowing hard, his eyes raking over Marcus's body. “I mean, look...” he whispers, gesturing toward Marcus' lower body. Marcus looks down, noticing for the first time how the thin film of oil makes his skin glisten in the soft lighting of the room, accentuating the outline of his muscles.

“Oh,” Marcus murmurs, his cheeks flushing.

“So beautiful,” Esca comments under his breath before standing behind the chair and rubbing the last traces of oil from his hands into Marcus' biceps. “Tonight, there's only one thing I want you to worry about,” Esca whispers in his ear, soothingly massaging the oil into his arms. “I want you to stay hard for me. The _whole_ time.”

Marcus turns his head, Esca's nose bumping into his cheek. Esca reaches down over Marcus' shoulder, wrapping his hand around Marcus' length again for emphasis. “If you feel you're losing your erection, at any time, you will tell me and we'll make it right,” Esca purrs against his cheek, as he pumps Marcus' cock with a loose grip. “Do you understand?”

Marcus nods jerkily. On the surface, it sounds pretty simple. What would Esca do that would cause him to lose his erection? A shiver runs down his spine.

Esca steps away. He opens the door to a locker and seems to ponder what item to choose from it. Marcus knows things are about to get serious, and adrenalin floods his bloodstream, pulling him out of his daze. Esca reaches inside then shuts the door, revealing a leather flogger. _Fuck yes_. Marcus has been looking forward to Esca using one of those on him.

Esca steps up to Marcus and runs the strands over his chest, the soft leather strands brushing over his skin. He runs them over his groin too, his cock visibly twitching among the supple leather strips. He withdraws the whip and uses his hand to give Marcus' cock a few strokes then steps back a little and swings the flogger. Marcus holds his breath. It hits Marcus right below his chest and Marcus looks down at himself in fascination as the skin turns a light shade of pink.

“Head up,” Esca orders, “Breathe.”

Marcus obeys, and the flogger hits him harder and higher, right on his chest, and he understands why Esca told him to keep his head out of the way. Esca methodically works his way down Marcus' upper body, the leather striking just hard enough to sting. Esca runs his hand over his skin appraisingly, then pumps Marcus' cock before moving on to the other side.

The flogging isn't as intense as Marcus knows it could be. Esca is obviously using restraint. _Foreplay_ , he thinks as Esca dishes out another layer of blows to his chest and ribcage. He hopes it's a promise of things to come, preparation for something harsher, just a way to get his blood going. Soon, Marcus' cheeks are burning as hot as the skin on his upper body, and he's yet to have any trouble staying hard for Esca.

Marcus' thighs are next, Esca taking a moment to make sure the blows do not rouse Marcus' injury. This time, Marcus feels the first sparks of real fear as the leather licks at his inner thighs, dangerously close to his groin.

Even though he was expecting it, it still surprises Marcus when Esca swings the flogger, hitting him squarely on his cock. The next blows are softer, Esca carefully aiming as he rotates his wrist, the strands hitting the topside of his cock every time they come round. Marcus groans, his body instinctively moving against the ropes as he uselessly tries to protect himself. He's barely regained his breath just as Esca flicks his wrist in the opposite direction, the whirling strands striking the underside of his erection.

Esca jacks Marcus' sore cock a few times. “You're so hard... you love having your cock whipped,” he intones; it doesn't sound like a question – Esca's right, anyway – so, Marcus doesn't reply.

Marcus finally catches his breath as Esca puts away the flogger, and chooses a metal container from a shelf. He drops a small bucket down by the chair, giving Marcus a chance to peek inside it.

“Clothespins?” Marcus asks, slightly disappointed that Esca is choosing finesse over brutality tonight. But these aren't just a couple of nipple clamps; this is a _bucketful_ of wooden clothespins. Marcus squirms in his seat and looks up at Esca worriedly.

“Oh, come on, Marcus. Don't tell me a big, bad Marine like you is afraid of a few clothespins,” Esca taunts as he grabs a handful of them. Marcus doesn't bother protesting as fresh apprehension blooms within him.

Esca pumps Marcus' cock with his free hand, his movements fast, unerringly leading his soldier to the edge of an orgasm, then leaving him hanging there panting and grunting in frustration. Then, while Marcus' gut is still filled with pleasure, Esca immediately starts applying the pins to Marcus' body.

Pinching the skin of Marcus' shoulder between his thumb and forefinger, he places the first pin on the fold of skin, then places another above the nipple, close to Marcus' armpit. The third goes on his nipple, and the fourth on his ribs, right under the rows of rope there. A fifth goes a few inches below the fourth, on the lower ribs at belly button level. The next goes on his hip and finally, another is affixed right below the rope holding his thigh in place. The whole process takes very little time, Esca working with speed and practiced ease.

“Breathe,” he reminds his soldier, giving Marcus's cock a few more strokes. Marcus tips his head back and breathes deeply, concentrating on Esca's handling of his cock. Marcus doesn't feel individual points of pain; his whole right side is throbbing and burning as one.

Esca moves and swiftly places clothespins on Marcus' left side, creating a perfect mirror image of the other side. He crouches between Marcus' legs, slowing jerking him off with both hands as Marcus breathes in and out.

By now, Marcus is shaking, and he feels dizzy. He gets lost in Esca's beautiful eyes for a moment, the young man's steady gaze filling him with the desire and determination to make it through whatever is thrown at him tonight. Over time, Marcus' focus had morphed. His goal isn't to just to get aroused, or to get off, as he originally sought from Esca. Of course those things are important, but they are now tempered by a layer of need beyond the physical. Pleasing Esca, making him proud, to willingly let him push his limits, to walk through the fire for him; those are the things Marcus wants most.

With one hand still pumping Marcus' cock, Esca takes one clothespin from the bucket and shows it to Marcus, whose sense of dread deepens tenfold. Keeping Marcus' erection out of the way, Esca carefully places the pin on the skin of his right testicle.

“Fuck,” Marcus groans, wriggling in his bonds.

With obvious hunger, Esca watches him struggle, his gray eyes flicking to Marcus' cock, which is still hard despite the discomfort. He waits for Marcus to calm down and picks up another wooden peg. He places that one on the opposite side, the tip of the pin pinching the sensitive skin of his scrotum. Unfazed by Marcus hisses of pain, and struggle, Esca fishes another clothespin out of the bucket. Marcus' chest is heaving, and he shakes his head at Esca, sweat soaking the fine hair at his temples.

Esca gives his soldier's cock a few strokes, tilting his head to the side. “I think you're trying to say no, but your cock is saying yes. Look at all the precum...” he tells Marcus, who looks down at the telltale sign of his arousal; his cock is rock hard and precum had been leaking from its tip for a while now. Esca waves the clothespin at him, letting go of his cock. “Unless you _eagle_ out, I'm going to add this one, then another,” he announces calmly. Marcus stills himself and breathes, then he nods at Esca, who flashes a small smile that makes more heat trickle down into Marcus' crotch.

Just as promised, Esca places a pin under each of his balls as Marcus huffs and grinds out a string of swears. Esca waits patiently for Marcus to regain a semblance of composure before pushing the bucket out of the way.

Esca picks up another implement from the closet, returning to Marcus' side holding a riding crop. As Esca closes in, through his haze, Marcus notices the word _Soldier_ on the tag attached to it, realizing that Esca is fiddling with the leather tongue of Marcus' own crop. Thoughts of the warehouse make Marcus tense up.

Esca runs the crop down the middle of his chest, from his sternum to his groin; Marcus flinches even though it's only a feather-light touch. Esca rubs the leather over the wet tip of Marcus' cock, smearing precum as he caresses its underside. He starts by laying a series of biting slaps to Marcus' inner thighs, then retreats behind Marcus. He lets the crop slide over the span of Marcus' arms and shoulders before leaving a trail of welts across Marcus' back, from one elbow to the other.

Marcus quickly learns that Esca can wield a riding crop wickedly, with scalpel-like precision rather than just the brute force he'd displayed weeks ago. He grits his teeth as Esca spanks all the gaps of taut skin between the clothespins, rewarding his soldier by pumping his erection as he whispers praises to Marcus, who valiantly rides through the shooting pain.

Esca gives Marcus no respite, using the crop to nudge one of the clothespins on his shoulder. Marcus groans, the small action drawing all his attention to the nerve endings at that one spot. As soon as the pain fades a little, Esca taps the pin below the first, sending another jab of pain through Marcus. Next comes the nipple, then the navel, and the hip and the thigh. Esca quickly shifts around, using the tip of the riding crop to prod all the pegs on the other side. Each time, Esca reminds him to breathe, and each time Marcus hisses and swears, sweat beading his brow. His skin is on fire, and his mind is scrambled – he's got fucking clothespins on his balls, for god's sake – but he's trembling as much from arousal as he is from pain, and he has no intention of capitulating by saying _eagle_.

The leather tongue slides along his cock, Esca giving his shaft a few swats that make Marcus rock his hips, only succeeding in making his balls sway a little. Esca stretches his arm a bit more to tap the clothespins that are attached to his sack. Marcus screws his eyes shut, a cold shiver passing through him even though he's overheating. The pain isn't as bad as he'd expected, but there's something inherently frightening about having his balls tortured, and for the first time, Marcus feels his erection falter.

He clears his throat. “Esca...” he says, his voice cracking, as he turns his face toward Esca. “I think...I'm losing it.”

Esca immediately sets the crop down and gets more oil. He kneels before Marcus and presses his hand to Marcus' throat, over his collar, squeezing it possessively and pushing his head back. The pressure on Marcus' throat isn't enough to block his airway, but he feels his cock pulse strongly in Esca's hand.

“You like that?” Esca asks, shifting his hand so his thumb can rest against the pulse on Marcus' neck.

“Yes,” Marcus admits, his Adam's apple bobbing under Esca's palm. Esca hums and smirks, but doesn't comment any further. He rewards Marcus with a nice long wank that drives Marcus delirious with the heady mixture of pain and pleasure assailing him.

With Marcus' cock standing hard and proud again, Esca puts Marcus through it all again, touching each peg once, but avoiding paying the same attention to Marcus' balls this time around. He kisses Marcus before circling around him.

He flicks the tip of the crop at the pin on his shoulder, hard enough to make it fall off. He hits the spot where the pin had been, once, then twice, Marcus stiffening and crying out as ripples of pain radiate from that exact point. Esca is proving he can use more subtle, devious ways to torture Marcus, just as effective as the more forceful ways Marcus had loved so much.

Esca hits the clothespin by his armpit, snapping the crop multiple times over the sensitized area, but he bypasses the nipple to send the next two flying to the floor. Marcus squirms in his seat as much as the rope allows, his screams of pain filling the small room. Esca faces Marcus, knocking the clothespin off his thighs with quick flicks of the crop before dislodging the pegs on the other side, until only the ones on his nipples are left.

Having gotten rid of the crop, Esca hunches over behind Marcus, sliding both hands over Marcus' shoulders, kneading them as he murmurs into his ear. “Almost there, Marcus,” he purrs, nudging the pins on his nipples slightly, Marcus groaning and tipping his head back, resting it on Esca's chest. Esca grasps both pins and removes them, throwing them aside carelessly before pressing his fingertips to Marcus' sore nipples and rubbing them to aid the return of blood flow to the sensitive abused nubs. Marcus screams, his head snapping forward as the agony stretches on.

Marcus blinks at Esca who's just appeared in front of him again, kneeling at his feet. His hand is _so_ slick and _so_ tight around his cock, jerking it with slow, sure movements. Marcus tenses when he spies Esca's other hand nearing his balls. The room is spinning, and he idly notices that he can't feel the wood under his bare feet anymore.

All four clothespins are removed from Marcus' balls in quick succession. Marcus can't stop his legs from shaking; he can't suppress the shapeless noise he makes. His balls throb painfully as Esca gently fondles them, his other hand still working his cock.

When the pain finally subsides, Marcus' head droops forward, his body relaxing. He looks at Esca through his lashes while Esca rubs his oiled hands over Marcus' hips and up his ribs, before cupping Marcus' chin.

“You did good,” he tells his soldier, his voice gentle and his eyes full of pride. “Do you want your reward now, or later?”

Marcus frowns a little. His balls ache, as much from abuse as the need for release. Truthfully, he feels as if his cock is about to burst. “Whatever you think best,” he croaks.

Esca shakes his head. “It's _your_ choice.”

Marcus takes a moment to think. His body wants release, but even in this desperate state, he wants to please Esca. “Later,” he decides.

“Let's get you out of this, then,” Esca says, Marcus' stomach giving a lurch at the young man's crooked smile.

**

After releasing Marcus from the chair, Esca guides him to his bedroom, where the lighting is set low and the bedding soft and cool. He invites Marcus to just relax on the bed as he fetches him a glass of water from the adjacent bathroom.

“I want to ask you something,” Esca says when Marcus hands him the empty glass.

“What's up?” Marcus asks, flopping back into the mattress limply.

Esca approaches and sits on the edge of the bed. He runs a fingertip over one of the visible indentations where the pins had pinched Marcus' skin. “I would like to take a picture of these,” Esca murmurs, glancing at Marcus' face as he slides his finger across his abs to another set of grooves, Marcus quivering under the soft touch.

Marcus props himself up on his elbows. “Why?”

Esca clears his throat. “I'd like to look at them later...”

Marcus pushes himself completely upright, ending up with his face inches away from Esca's. “You mean, so you can jerk off to them later?” Marcus asks boldly. Esca wasn't the only observant person in the room; Marcus had noticed how Esca, with his eyes or his fingers, always lingered over the marks he left on his body.

“I understand if you don't want to...” Esca starts nervously.

“Shut up. Get your camera,” Marcus interrupts him gently. The idea of Esca getting turned on as he looks at pictures of his marks brings new life to Marcus' flagging erection. Esca quickly finds the camera – an expensive thing with giant zoom lenses – and he takes a few shots of Marcus' body, all of them close-ups that do not include his face.

“Thank you,” Esca utters, turning the camera off and setting it to the side. Marcus maneuvers himself closer, leaning into Esca as he turns back toward him.

“Promise me you'll blow your load when you look at them,” he demands huskily, his nose bumping into Esca's, who answers Marcus' question with a fervent nod. The ensuing kiss is fierce, Esca pulling away only to remove his own t-shirt. He climbs on top of Marcus, his chest cool and his jeans rough against Marcus' sore skin.

“You've been dressed for way too long,” Marcus huffs. “Want to feel you.”

Esca nips at his bottom lip and rolls off, working the jeans off his legs as Marcus waits. The pants have barely hit the floor before they're intertwined again, lips locked and hands touching every inch of skin they can reach. Marcus moans into Esca's mouth with a full body shudder when their hard cocks finally touch.

“Fuck,” he whispers, groping Esca's muscular ass to better hump him; he can feel the slickness of their mixed precum as their erections slip and slide against each other and it feels fucking divine.

It takes a few seconds for Marcus to notice Esca has stopped moving with him. He pulls back, questioning Esca with his eyes.

“You still want your reward, right?” Esca asks with a smirk.

“This isn't it?” Marcus asks in reply, genuinely confounded. Esca's smirk tells him that he's correct. “Well?” he prompts Esca impatiently, his fingers digging into Esca's ass cheeks.

Esca disentangles himself from Marcus to rummage through the nightstand's top drawer. Marcus clearly sees the bottle of lubricant Esca is holding, a wave of nerves rendering him speechless. Esca had said he meant to fuck him, right?

“All fours,” Esca orders tersely, his smirk and the gray from his eyes all but gone.

“Er, woah. Esca...” Marcus stammers.

Esca kisses him into silence. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I...” Marcus breaks off and takes a deep breath. “I've never...”

“Tell me, Marcus. I want to know,” Esca encourages him.

Marcus recounts the small extent of his experience with men, Esca listening with interest.

“So the blowjob you gave me...”

“My first...”

“...and your ass?”

“Never,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head.

“Good. That's good,” Esca says, holding Marcus's cheek as he kisses him. “Your reward today will help you figure out if it's something you'd like to do down the line. I like taking what is offered to me freely. This is no different.”

Esca's words reassure him a little. “If I had decided to get my reward in the chair, what were you going to do?” he asks curiously.

Esca purses his lips. “A simple hand job, I suppose.”

“You suppose? You didn't have another reward planned?” Marcus asks dubiously.

“No. I knew you'd pick the hard way. Because you're a good slave who likes to please his master,” Esca explains.

 _Slave_. _Master_. The words seem so much more powerful that _sub_ and _dom_. There's an implication of ownership that goes beyond the simple power exchange connotation of the other two terms. Something about being Esca's slave feels right. He cannot explain it with words, it's just that the idea settles comfortably in his gut, in his mind, like it was meant to be, like fate, or karma were involved in some way. It fills a hole in his chest, reestablishes the balance within him, restores the peace of mind that had been eluding him for years. Marcus wants to belong to Esca completely, mind and body, including the most intimate parts of him.

He turns around slowly and rises on all fours, his cock hardening again as he submissively presents his ass to Esca. “See? Such a good slave...” Esca says, petting Marcus' rump, the word making the soldier's cock twitch.

Marcus cannot imagine doing this with anyone else but Esca. Hell, he wonders if there's anything he wouldn't do for him... He flinches when Esca smears cool lube over his perineum, spreading it upward, and over his asshole. Esca circles the small entrance, Marcus' body tensing in apprehension when he stops.

“Breathe,” Esca murmurs, rubbing his free hand over Marcus' tailbone. “I'm not trying to hurt you. I want this to feel good. I want you to like it... I want to be your first. So, relax. It'll help.”

“Okay,” Marcus mumbles, his stomach lurching at the thought of Esca being the first man to fuck him. Esca continues to tease Marcus' opening. Marcus presses his cheek to the mattress and breathes, concentrating on the soft touches which – he has to admit – are very pleasurable. Soon he's fully hard, and wishing he could jerk off as Esca keeps at it. What if Esca decided to use his tongue instead of his finger? The idea makes him moan.

“Very good,” Esca praises, happy with the sounds Marcus is making. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Marcus whispers, arousal making him less nervous, and more eager. Esca carefully pushes the tip of one finger inside, easily breaching the ring of muscle.

“Tell me how it feels...” Esca demands, his digit sinking deeper inside Marcus.

“Fine,” Marcus says, a bit surprised that it doesn't hurt.

True to his word, Esca is gentle and moves carefully, his finger sinking deeper inside Marcus centimeter by centimeter. Soon, Esca's finger is sliding in and out of him slowly and Marcus starts to enjoy the slight stretch, and he instinctively rocks his body in time with Esca's movements.

Esca hums approvingly. “That's it,” he murmurs. “Not so bad after all, eh?”

Marcus lets out a short chuckle. “It's kinda nice,” he agrees huskily.

“Let's make it better, then,” Esca proposes. “I'm going to add another finger.” Marcus breathes deeply and exhales as Esca inserts a second lubed digit inside him. After the initial stinging sensation, the pain recedes, leaving only that same pleasurable stretch, as well as one of fullness that is enjoyable, if a bit strange.

Marcus isn't sure if Esca is planning to stick more fingers in him, two seems like _plenty_ , but it feels good.

“That's...Fuck!” Marcus exclaims, Esca's fingers finding a spot inside him that makes intense pleasure flare up. His mind goes numb as Esca brushes over that spot over and over, and he finds himself pushing back into Esca's hand eagerly and moaning loudly.

“Baby...” Esca calls quietly. Lightheaded, Marcus turns to look at him, panting and his asshole quivering around Esca's fingers.

“Touch yourself. I want you to come with my fingers in your arse,” he tells Marcus in a low voice, rough with arousal.

Marcus reaches back with one hand, wrapping it around his cock. He just squeezes, without moving up and down, the simple pressure feeling heavenly after being teased so much; he wonders if he could come from simply holding his cock as Esca stimulates his prostate. Only one way to find out...

“Fuck me,” he begs, not caring if Esca misunderstands and shoves his cock inside him; Esca can do anything he wants, Marcus would probably just spread himself open so Esca could better use him. But Esca understands just fine, and he resumes the slide of his fingers inside Marcus' tight canal.

“One day, I might be able to stick my whole hand inside you,” Esca purrs behind him, images of Esca's hand buried into him passed his wrist flashing in Marcus' mind. _Fuck_.

He can't help moving his hand, pumping his cock a few times as Esca's caresses bring forth more pleasure from the inside out. He's getting close and means to warn Esca, but the young man is already encouraging him, probably alerted by the quivering of his hole.

“Yes,” Esca whispers. “Come for me. Come with my fingers in your greedy hole...”

Esca talking dirty in his sexy British accent of his is what sends Marcus over the edge. He comes with a roar, his orgasm so powerful he thinks his atoms are coming apart. Every spurt of his cum is accompanied by his hole spasming around Esca's fingers, which in turn triggers another strong wave of pleasure.

He collapses forward with a bewildered chuckle, Esca's fingers slipping out. If Esca's fingers felt this good, how much better would his cock feel?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Abbeyjewel for beta reading and providing me with bondage advice!

They meet in a bar not far from where Marcus and Lutor work, where they both go regularly. Lutor doesn't know Esca is coming, but Esca knows Marcus means to tell Lutor he's involved with a man. When he'd told Esca what he planned to do, Marcus had been afraid Esca would protest, or that he'd make excuses to stay out of it.

“Do you want me to be there?” Esca had offered instead.

“You would do that?” Marcus had asked incredulously.

Esca had frowned like what Marcus just said didn't compute. “Of course. If that's what you want.”

“Yeah, that'd be nice. I want you two to meet.” Elated, Marcus had set up the meeting immediately.

“Lutor, this is Esca. He's the guy with the cars,” Marcus introduces. He knows it's nowhere near describing what Esca means to him, but he has to start somewhere, right? “And this is Lutor, my best friend.” And that is the whole truth.

The most important men in Marcus' life shake hands, exchanging polite words as Marcus mentally crosses his fingers, hoping they will at the very least tolerate each other.

As soon as the waitress is done taking their order, Lutor engages Esca in a technical conversation about cars. Usually, Marcus would participate, but his nerves are getting the best of him. He can't listen to what is said, and stays silent, which draws Lutor's attention.

“Are you okay there, buddy?” Lutor asks with a small frown.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I just, uh... have things on my mind,” Marcus mumbles, sipping his beer. Lutor presses his lips into a thin line, but shrugs and resumes his discussion with Esca.

A few minutes later, the waitress brings a plate of bacon-wrapped jalapeno poppers for them to share. Marcus realizes his appetite is gone, and that if he doesn't say something soon, he might actually throw up.

“We're together,” Marcus blurts out suddenly, turning a dark shade of red, interrupting both men who turn to stare at him as they chew on their food.

“Say what?” Lutor asks, tilting his head.

Marcus sighs deeply, staring at the appetizers. He glances at Esca, who gives him a supportive nod. The small gesture helps Marcus gather all of his courage.

“Me... and Esca,” he starts, lifting his gaze to meet Lutor's green eyes. “We're together,” he finishes, holding his breath. Lutor looks at Esca, then at Marcus again, frowning.

“Together, like... _Together_?” he asks, dubiously.

Marcus nods his answer.

“You're _dating_?” Lutor asks, obviously not sure he got this right.

“Yes. We're dating,” Marcus confirms, his heart beating hard in his chest. He hopes this first step of coming out will go smoothly. He hopes Lutor will take it in stride and that it won't affect their friendship. Lutor is a like a brother to him, after all.

“Oh,” Lutor utters blankly, obviously processing this new information. “I guess that explains it, then,” he finally says.

Marcus' heart sinks. “Explains what?” Marcus asks tightly. He cringes internally, half-expecting Lutor to make some stupid remark about the times they'd shared communal showers or the same tent, or some other clichéd drivel of the sort.

“Why you didn't even seem interested in hitting on anyone the last couple times we went out together. I thought you were shaken up about Cottia, but no, you were with someone else,” Lutor explains, his expression laid-back.

Relief washes over Marcus, his shoulders drooping as he releases the breath he'd been holding. He gives Esca a small smile, which the young man returns.

“Marcus,” Lutor calls quietly. Marcus turns his head, seeing Lutor raise his pint in a toast. “I'm happy for you,” he says as Marcus tips his own glass against his with a clink. Lutor waves his glass at Esca too, the young man meeting his toast. He sips his beer before addressing Esca again: “Now, about this Aston Martin...”

**

Marcus refrains from putting his hands on Esca as the young man drives them back to Esca's place in the BMW. But as soon as they cross the threshold, he catches Esca off guard, wrapping his arms around Esca's shoulders while his jacket is still around his arms. He kisses Esca's neck, grinning against Esca's warm skin.

“How do you feel?” Esca asks.

“Good. Lighter, I guess,” Marcus answers, nipping at Esca's neck. Esca hums and tries to free himself, Marcus tightening his hold around him with a chuckle. “I'm still nervous about telling my mom. I honestly have no idea what she'll do. Does your mom know about you?”

“She passed away too,” Esca replies.

“I'm sorry,” Marcus whispers, meaning it. Esca was never very forthcoming when it came to his family. That both his parents had died is probably part of the reason.

“I have no intention of sharing details of my intimate life with my family, if that's what you're getting at. After the stunt Lathian pulled, I suspect he already knows anyway,” Esca says bitterly, referring to his cousin spying on him.

“Speaking of him, what did you decide about the warehouse?” Marcus inquires.

“Now's not the time to talk about him. We should celebrate,” Esca counters, grinding his ass into Marcus.

“Oh yeah? Do I get to choose how we _celebrate_?” Marcus asks, allowing Esca to get away with changing the subject. He also lets Esca break free of the hug.

“Of course not,” Esca retorts, his eyes sparkling playfully. “Come on,” he says, pulling Marcus with him toward the bedroom. Marcus never really knows what Esca will do next, but his pulse speeds up because no matter what it is, he knows it'll be good.

Marcus stops in the doorway, and watches Esca pull his shirt off, muscles rolling and shifting as he bares his chest. Esca's fair skin, dotted with numerous beauty marks, seems to beckon to Marcus. Esca throws the shirt on a chair, and approaches, his jeans hanging low on his hips. Shit. Marcus wants to lick along the small furrows that run from his hips and partly disappear inside his jeans.

“No collar?” Esca asks.

“I was too nervous, I forgot it at home,” Marcus replies, tearing his eyes away from Esca's slim waist.

Esca pulls Marcus inside the room by the shoulder, only to push him against the wall. It isn't that forceful, but Marcus' breath is knocked out of his lungs nonetheless. Esca extends his tattooed arm and places his hand over Marcus' throat, the contact reminding Marcus of how the collar makes him feel, except it's amplified a hundred times and sends arousal crackling throughout his body.

“Are you already hard, Marcus?” Esca asks, his lustful gray eyes gleaming as he speaks.

“Can't you tell?” Marcus says, hoping Esca will find out for himself by groping the bulge in Marcus' pants with his free hand.

“I already know,” Esca tells him slyly, keeping his eyes on Marcus' face and his hand around his throat. “I still want to hear you say it, so... Are you hard, Marcus?” he repeats.

“Yes, I'm hard.”

“Why?”

The question takes Marcus aback. Does Esca want to hear all the ways in which he turns Marcus on? Or does he want Marcus to analyze the deeper psychological motives that drive him to enjoy submitting to Esca? The act itself feels like the most natural thing in the world, but explaining _why_ is tricky. Why does Esca's hand on his throat excite him so much? He doesn't quite understand.

“I don't know,” Marcus admits.

“I think you do,” Esca retorts, his tone soft. “Just tell me, in simple terms, what turned you on. Start from the moment we got here.”

Marcus is grateful for the guidance. He can do simple terms. “It started when I held you in the entrance.”

“Good. Go on,” Esca encourages.

Marcus closes his eyes to better remember. “Your smell, the warmth of your body... Your ass,” he says with a smile. “ _You_ ,” he sums up, opening his eyes to find Esca staring back at him fondly.

“And here, in the bedroom?” Esca coaxes him.

“You took your shirt off. I like your body,” Marcus answers, his cheeks coloring even as he makes a conscious effort not to feel embarrassed about it. He wouldn't feel self-conscious if he told a girl he liked her body, would he? So why should he feel different about a man? “And _this_ too,” Marcus utters, laying his own hand over Esca's on his neck.

“Any idea why you like _this_?” the young man asks, obviously wanting to investigate this aspect further. Something about Esca trying to understand him, to know what makes him tick, makes Marcus extremely happy. It proves Esca _cares_.

“It reminds me of the collar, only more intense.”

Esca raises an intrigued eyebrow at this. “What about the collar?”

“I wear it at home sometimes. I like the way it feels. It's like you're there with me. The tighter the better,” Marcus admits.

Esca's eyes harden suddenly; Marcus feels a stab of sobering worry, thinking he's displeased Esca somehow. “I forbid you to wear the collar, or any other object, too tightly around your neck when you're alone. It's dangerous,” Esca practically growls.

“I promise,” Marcus agrees, enjoying Esca's concern for his well-being. Marcus hadn't seriously fooled around with the tightness of the collar, but reckless as he is, he could easily see himself doing it. Well, not anymore... That's when an answer to Esca's earlier question comes to him. “I think that... when I wear the collar, I feel like I'm yours. Like you own me...”

Esca's eyes soften, and his breath hitches at the words. His lips part, as if he's about to say something, but he seems to change his mind. Instead, he releases Marcus to lift his soldier's t-shirt up, clearly pleased when he sees Marcus' abs. Marcus lets him remove the garment and keeps his back against the cool wall as Esca undoes the button of his jeans for him, then slowly pulls down the tab of the zipper, Marcus' hardening cock throbbing under the light pressure.

Once Marcus has stepped out of his jeans, Esca even crouches and slips Marcus' socks off, and then pulls Marcus' underwear down his thighs, smirking as he watches Marcus' erection bob in front of his face.

 _Fuck_. Esca hasn't even really done anything yet, and Marcus is already breathing hard, his body thrumming with excitement. Esca finishes getting rid of the boxer briefs before standing up. He places his hand over Marcus' stomach, then slides it up, feeling the contours of his defined muscles, until he reaches Marcus' throat again. This time, Esca doesn't just hold him, he applies pressure.

Marcus gasps and balls his fists as he waits.

“Relax. Breathe,” Esca whispers soothingly, Marcus marveling at the fact that Esca never seems sick of repeating these words over and over. He takes a deep breath and lets his hands relax. “That's it,” Esca praises.

“What are we doing?” Marcus asks before inhaling and exhaling deeply.

“Trying something new,” Esca answers vaguely, squeezing Marcus' throat a tad more.

Marcus instinctively tenses, but he realizes that Esca's grip isn't that tight, so he wills himself to loosen up. Esca must notice, because he gives Marcus a nod and a quick smile before addressing him again.

“Stroke your cock,” Esca orders quietly, heat licking at Marcus' groin with each word.

Marcus swallows, and obeys, gladly curling one hand around his cock. Esca peers down as Marcus starts jerking off, his own gaze trained on Esca's face.

Esca slowly leans in and swipes his tongue over Marcus' lips, his fingers digging into the skin of Marcus' neck. Marcus groans, the head of his cock brushing against the rough material of Esca's jeans. He parts his lips, inviting Esca to take his mouth. Esca smirks, squeezes his throat even harder and kisses him possessively, stoking the fire that already burns hot in Marcus' belly. Marcus knows the game they're playing is potentially dangerous, and the adrenalin only seems to heighten his arousal.

Esca pulls back, but he hovers close, his face calm and collected but for his gaze, which dances from Marcus' eyes, to his mouth, to his throat, and to his hand pumping his cock. Marcus can still breathe, albeit with some difficulty; he guesses Esca could easily block his airway completely, but he's choosing not to.

If they keep at this, Marcus knows he'll come before long. He looks searchingly into Esca's eyes – so dark and gorgeous right now. Wait. Is that what Esca wants to see? To witness Marcus reach an orgasm while choking him? The wave of heat the idea sends rolling through Marcus' body almost sends him right over the edge, leaving him with his cock throbbing dangerously between his fingers.

“Stand down, Soldier,” Esca whispers huskily, suddenly relinquishing his hold on Marcus' throat.

Marcus immediately lets go of his own cock at the command. “What are we–” Marcus tries to ask breathlessly, interrupted by one of Esca's kisses.

“Don't worry,” Esca says against his lips, petting the side of Marcus' head. “I tell you what to do, and you do it. Use your safeword if you need to.”

Esca's patience seems limitless. Marcus knows he's always impatient and eager, a bit restless, and curious. But Esca understands that Marcus gets off on not knowing what to expect. Marcus encloses Esca into a strong embrace, kissing him as he cards his fingers through the soft short hair on the back of his head.

“Sounds perfect,” he murmurs between two pecks to Esca's lips. “I trust you,” he adds.

Esca smiles back at him, the sight so beautiful, Marcus could swear it warms the very marrow of his bones.

“Kneel in the middle, here,” Esca orders, schooling his features and waving toward the open area next to the bed. Marcus walks over, kneels on the carpet, and then runs his hand over its thick fibers, realizing it's much more comfortable and soft than it looks.

Esca opens a drawer and pulls out four long lengths of rope, more than Marcus has ever seen Esca handle so far. _Bondage. And lots of it_ , Marcus thinks as he sits on his heels and watches the young man uncoil the rope.

“ _This_ is a lesson in patience,” Esca announces cryptically, before starting to loop a hemp rope around Marcus, who tries his best to keep his pulse under control.

Esca creates an intricate network of rope around his upper body. He loops it around his neck, around his ribs, and his hips too, and then – in an unexpected turn of events – Esca places two sections of rope down the middle of his ass, lining his balls as the ropes wrap underneath him and are secured in the front. His wrists are wrapped in numerous rows of rope and affixed to the back of the harness.

Marcus doesn't need to tell Esca that this position might put a strain on his injury, because Esca invites him to lay down for that very reason. Esca double checks that the rope isn't too tight anywhere on Marcus' body. Finally, his ankles are tied together.

Marcus uselessly wriggles in his bonds; he can bend his knees, and he could roll over on his belly to lay on his other side if needed, but otherwise, he is completely at Esca's mercy. Esca steps away to admire his work, Marcus hoping he will be pleased. Esca seems satisfied and crouches next to Marcus, petting his hair back.

“You can flip over to your right side if you're too uncomfortable, but other than that, I want you to stay here, until I decide it's enough,” Esca explains in a low voice.

“Got it,” Marcus replies, goosebumps appearing all over his body as Esca runs his hand over Marcus' shoulder and down his bicep. He notices and does it again, using his fingernails this time, smirking as he watches Marcus' body shiver under the touch.

Without further instructions, Esca kisses Marcus' cheek, turns around and climbs on his bed. He rearranges the pillows, uses the remote to turn on the television, settling on a news channel, then opens up a magazine.

Marcus has to stay on his side to be comfortable. From where he is on the floor, he can see Esca, who's now reclining against the headboard of his bed, with pillows tucked behind his back. He glances at the television as he distractedly pages through the latest issue of Medical Dealer Magazine.

Marcus finds Esca's disinterested behavior off-putting at first. Marcus' own attention is divided between the roughness of the rope on his skin, his feeling of helplessness, and watching Esca. As minutes go by, calm settles over him, the raging fire in his belly dwindling to a simmer.

Marcus turns over to his other side, carefully avoiding humping the floor – Esca wouldn't like that. That's when he notices that when he moves a certain way, the ropes rub against his ass and groin. He likes the way it feels and he repeats the movement at regular intervals, keeping himself entertained until he realizes he's getting chaffed.

Whenever Esca deigns look at him, his gray eyes are filled with desire, and it sends a brand new wave of arousal through Marcus' prone body. The time Esca spends ignoring him only makes Esca's attention more potent, akin to throwing fuel on a fire.

He can hardly believe it when Esca gets off the bed and walks up to him. It wasn't so bad, he thinks. Only thirty minutes, or so. Marcus perks up, his heart beating faster at the prospect of Esca touching him. But Esca doesn't even look at Marcus' face; he inspects the harness instead, pulling here and there. “Numb anywhere?” he asks, squeezing Marcus' fingertips.

“No,” Marcus rasps, eyes widening when Esca simply returns to the bed. He sags back to the floor limply under the weight of his disappointment.

**

His joints are aching, the space between his legs feels raw; he wants to stretch out and get a shoulder rub from Esca. Marcus isn't exactly sure how long Esca leaves him lying there – an hour? An hour and a half? Marcus tries not to get his hopes up when Esca approaches him again.

This time, Esca kneels next to Marcus and combs his fingers through his hair, Marcus leaning into the touch he craved for.

“You can get up now,” Esca says.

Marcus nods, shifting to unsuccessfully relieve the soreness in his joints. If Esca had wanted him to bear it longer, Marcus would have tried.

Esca smiles at him, then he quickly releases Marcus' ankles. Esca bows forward and leaves a series of small pecks from mid-thigh to his hip, Marcus shivering under Esca's warm lips. He then unties his wrists, Marcus immediately turning over to his back to stretch, only to have the rope scrape at the delicate skin of his groin. He hisses at the sensation, Esca straightening up to check on him.

“Are you alright?”

Marcus huffs. Of all the things that Esca had done to him, this isn't the most painful or brutal. But he really would like those ropes off his groin.

“I'm alright,” he assures Esca. “But...”

Esca raises an eyebrow, listening intently. Marcus swallows hard, weighing his options. “The rope between my legs is too much,” he utters under his breath, sounding much more hesitant than he'd meant.

Esca looks straight into Marcus eyes. “I will keep you in this harness unless you say your safeword.”

Marcus doesn't want to interfere with Esca's master plan, so he sighs and clenches his jaw. He doesn't want to give up, doesn't want to disappoint Esca.

“I don't want to stop everything. I just... I moved too much. I liked feeling the ropes... At first, anyway.”

Esca presses his lips to Marcus', his fingers finding the large knot over his solar plexus. “You never used your safeword before,” he remarks.

It's true he hasn't. Marcus shrugs.

“Say it, then” Esca tells him.

“I don't need to.”

“Sounds like you do. Say it. I'm ordering you to,” Esca insists.

 _What_? Marcus swallows hard, confusion threatening to overwhelm any lingering arousal. “Eagle,” he mumbles, completely uncertain.

“Tell me what you need,” Esca prompts him.

Marcus feels paralyzed. _Fuck_. Why is this so hard? Is he really so hard-headed that he won't even tell Esca what he needs? Is he so reckless that he won't speak up when he's had enough?

“Do you want the ropes off?” Esca suggests helpfully, ever keenly observing Marcus' body language.

“Yes,” Marcus finally admits, “but only because my groin is sore... I don't wanna stop, Esca. I need–” Marcus starts to plead, never finishing his sentence. He wants to come, yes, but he leaves it up to Esca to decide if he deserves it after using his safeword, even though that's what Esca wanted.

“I'm going to have to untie it all. Once I get the lower loops off, the top part will come loose,” Esca explains, already tugging another loop out of a knot somewhere. “And don't worry, this is not the end of it. At least not until you decide it is.” His manner is reassuring, and his eyes sincere.

All the rope comes off, just as promised. Marcus is a bit disappointed to see the complex network of natural rope go. Esca is really masterful when it comes to bondage, and although Marcus only had glimpsed his reflection in the mirror, he thought it was beautiful.

“Come sit on the bed for a minute,” Esca invites, offering his hand to Marcus who gratefully takes it.

As is Esca's habit, he brings a glass of water to him and waits as Marcus drains it.

“Do you know why I made you say _Eagle_?” Esca asks.

“Yeah...” Marcus answers, shrugging. He remembers what Esca had said to him about not letting certain kinds of pain interfere with their fun.

“Good. So, now you know it's not the end of the world. I'm not angry, I'm not disappointed,” Esca assures him, lips curling into a soft smile.

“I can see that,” Marcus mumbles, letting Esca's smile soothe any lingering doubt or concern.

“I have more in store for you,” Esca says, lifting one playful eyebrow. “But, if you're not up for it tonight, we can do it another time.”

Beside the chaffing, Marcus feels fine. On the contrary, he yearns for more, for _release_.

“Can you tell me what it is?”

“I suppose you've done quite well...” Esca muses. “Would you like to choose what happens next?”

Marcus' eyes widen, his heartbeat quickening. “Yes,” he answers, his mind racing. Shit, he hasn't even seen half of what Esca keeps in that “workshop” of his...

“You may choose between two options,” Esca announces. Marcus stops his frantic brainstorming and waits as Esca opens the nightstand drawer.

The young man turns around. “A paddle,” he says, holding up an implement made out of natural wood. Its length is peppered with numerous holes placed in diamond patterns and its corners rounded. The workmanship reminds Marcus of the cat-o-nine-tails Esca had made for him a few weeks ago. His cock fills in at the memories from that day, when Esca had been particularly brutal.

“Or...” Esca says, letting the word hang into the air as he lays the paddle on the nightstand. He raises one hand, showing his palm to Marcus. “ _This_.”

“Your hand?” Marcus asks with a frown. There are so many things Esca could do with just one hand...

“ I'm going to spank your arse. You get to choose how,” Esca specifies.

“Oh,” Marcus utters, blood instantly rushing to his groin. He takes a moment to think. Truthfully, he wants Esca's hands on him. After lying on the floor, tied up so close yet so _far_ from Esca for so long, Marcus craves his touch; skin on skin. “I want to feel your hand,” he decides, his voice already rough with arousal.

“Excellent choice,” Esca says approvingly.

He heads to his dresser and pulls a black leather glove from it, the sight of it making Marcus shiver. Then Esca takes a moment to gather coins from a bowl filled with keys and odds and ends. Esca places the glove on Marcus lap and invites him take the coins in his hand.

“I want you to put them in there,” Esca commands. “Do you remember how I did it?”

Marcus gives a slow nod. His hands shake a little as he counts the coins and slips them inside the glove. He has to start over when coins go down the wrong finger, but Esca doesn't comment, and just waits patiently.

Marcus hands over the glove when he's done. Esca carefully places it on the nightstand, then sits next to Marcus.

“Get up,” he whispers. “Lay across my lap. Facing toward the head of the bed. Your arse right over my thighs.”

Marcus climbs on the bed and does as Esca wants, ending up across the young man's lap, with his back arched and his ass up. His cock, already fully hard again, is bobbing underneath him, between Esca's spread thighs, as he shifts his body to settle as comfortably as possible. He's very close to the edge of the mattress, and Marcus has to hold on to a pole from the metal headboard with his left hand so he doesn't fall off.

Esca hums, seemingly satisfied, and he pets his ass and strokes the back of Marcus' legs. Marcus relaxes a little under Esca's gentle ministrations, and presses his cheek to the mattress, relishing this new position. The last time Esca had beaten his ass, he'd been bent over that old couch at the warehouse. He loves that he has Esca this close to him, almost as if he's being held.

The first hit startles Marcus more than it hurts him.

Esca spanks Marcus with his bare hand, each blow stinging, as well as sending sparks of pleasure to his groin, just as Marcus had hoped for.

Esca's never said it in so many words, but Marcus suspects his dominant lover enjoys the noises he wrenches from Marcus' mouth as much as the marks he leaves upon his skin. So Marcus lets his breaths and groans turn into pants and grunts. It's not that difficult, because the longer the spanking goes on, the more it hurts, and Marcus feels his awareness shrink. He loves that feeling; like he and Esca are the sum of the universe and that they're connected by the pain and pleasure they share – one giving, the other receiving. Marcus grasps the bedding with his right hand and swears under a vicious blow, desperately wanting pressure on his erection.

Esca interrupts the spanking, petting Marcus' back, and brushing his fingertips over the burning skin of his ass. Marcus breathes deeply, his ass throbbing and Esca's gentle touches making him shiver and break into goose bumps.

“Give me the glove,” Esca orders quietly.

Marcus lifts his head to locate the glove, licking his lips nervously as he reaches for it. He hands it over to Esca, his stomach twisting in a knot at the prospect of being hit with the glove heavy with coins. He shudders when the cool leather comes into contact with his already abused skin, Esca groping one of his ass cheeks.

Marcus remembers how much the glove can hurt. He remembers the bruises it left on his cheekbone. Esca leans down, presses his lips to Marcus' shoulder blade and straightens up. Marcus feels light headed with the mere prospect of what's to come.

Esca dishes out ten blows, alternating the right and the left cheek, in an unhurried, continuous rhythm.

Marcus screws his eyes shut, gripping the metal rod with one hand, and fighting hard against the desire to get up and run away. Fuck, he wishes he was tied down to Esca's bed right now. The pain seems to burrow into him, each strike landing while the pain from the last still lingers on. Deep. Sharp. And each gladly received.

He expects another blow, his hips jerking in apprehension, but nothing comes. He hears the muffled clink of the coins when the glove falls to the ground. Esca gently nudges him, his voice equally soft. “You may step down.”

Dazed, Marcus lets go of the bed frame to roll off, finding his legs useless. Esca helps him, Marcus smoothly slinking to the floor on his knees right in front of Esca. Instinctively, Marcus shuffles closer to Esca, chest pressed against his pant legs and his arm reaching for his hip, seeking maximum contact from this position. Esca pets his hair, Marcus' head resting on Esca's knee as he gets his bearings back.

His green eyes fall to Esca's tented crotch, and he reaches for it. He caresses the bulge, feeling the contours of Esca's erection with tentative fingertips through the thick material. Esca spreads his legs and leans back with a quick nod, silently giving Marcus permission to get his cock out.

Glassy-eyed, Marcus frees Esca's cock and groans at the sight. He's still rather new to pleasing a man with his mouth, but it's quickly becoming his favorite way to satisfy Esca. He thinks about it often. Something about being on his knees, and being able to taste and smell Esca as he makes him lose control turns him on immensely. He squeezes the hard shaft lightly and strokes it, his thumb smearing precum over its tip. Esca hums approvingly; Marcus looks up at him. This is something only _he_ shares with Esca, he thinks, with a spike of possessiveness.

“No one else gets to see you like this,” Marcus whispers, intoning it like a fact rather than a question.

“Only you, Marcus,” Esca affirms, stirring a pleasant flutter in Marcus' chest.

Marcus returns his attention to Esca's cock and licks at its underside, making Esca moan. Ignoring his own needs, Marcus takes Esca into his mouth and sucks, pouring all his desire and gratitude into it. He chokes, but he doesn't stop. He's desperately hungry for Esca, who seems happy to let Marcus do all the work. He doesn't even try to tell Marcus what to do.

Marcus clings to Esca's thighs and bobs up and down. Esca whispers his name and cards his fingers through Marcus' hair, his hips slightly rocking, in time with Marcus' lips on him. He splutters, slurps obscenely, saliva dripping from his bottom lip as he does his best to please Esca. He must be doing something right, because soon, Esca comes with a moan, his cock pulsing deep inside Marcus' mouth.

Determined, Marcus swallows the first spurt of come, then the next. It's Esca's cum; it's thick and plentiful, and taking it into his body thrills Marcus, leaving him feeling strangely sated even though he hasn't come yet.

“Thank you,” Marcus murmurs, utterly sincere, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“You're welcome,” Esca replies breathlessly, his eyes glinting prettily in the low light.

Marcus sits on his heels, only to hiss in pain. Esca offers him his hand. “Come up here, babe. Lay down next to me.”

 _Babe_? The sweet pet name surprises Marcus; for a second, he wants to text Lutor about it, like an overexcited schoolboy. It makes him smile, and he accepts Esca's help and lies down on his belly on the bed, Esca stretching alongside him.

Esca kisses Marcus' cheek, then looks into his eyes as he rubs his thumb on his cheek. “I must ask one more thing of you,” he whispers.

“What is it?” Marcus asks, unable to muster even a small frown. After being choked, tied up for what seemed ages, spanked thoroughly and having given Esca a blowjob, Marcus isn't sure what else he can do, though he isn't against it.

“As I said earlier, this is a lesson in patience...” Esca says, Marcus listening closely. “I want you to wait until I give you permission to come.”

The last time Esca had asked this of Marcus, the ex-Marine had been struggling with his ability to reach an orgasm. It'd made the task notably easy then. But now? Particularly tonight, after all this, even as his cock throbs underneath him at the thought of Esca wanting to exert control over his orgasms?

“Uh, okay,” Marcus consents, unsure if he can hold his part of the deal. “How will you know I won't cheat after I've gone home?” A legitimate question under the circumstances.

“Oh, I'll know,” Esca retorts, “because I'm hoping you'll spend the night here. With me.”

Marcus' heart flutters in his chest again. They hadn't spent the night together since that fateful New Year's Eve.

“Will you stay?” Esca asks, voice and eyes hopeful.

“Yes,” Marcus replies almost instantly.

Esca suddenly scrambles off the bed. Marcus' gaze follows Esca's movements as the young man retrieves his camera.

“May I?” Esca asks, waving the camera at him meaningfully.

“Fire away,” Marcus replies with a grin, laying his cheek on his folded arms as he hears the camera's fake shutter noise multiple times.

Esca scoots next to Marcus and shows him the few shots he's just taken. Marcus sees the darker round contusions caused by the coins over the bright red splotching covering his ass, the color contrasting obscenely with the lightly tanned, untouched skin surrounding it. Esca cycles through the pictures once more. “Such a beautiful arse...” he whispers, eyes riveted to the small screen.

“Yeah, and you've got the _real_ thing right here, _babe_ ,” Marcus taunts with half a smile, wiggling his butt.

The jibe has the desired effect; Esca quickly gets rid of the camera and his jeans. He returns to lay kisses down Marcus' tailbone, before lavishing his bruised ass with soft kisses and long, languid, wet licks.

The feathery touches send delicious shivers through Marcus, and the trails of saliva feel cool and soothing on his burning, bruised skin; Marcus does everything he can not to hump the mattress, but he moans and mumbles grateful words into the bedding, idly wondering if Esca can decipher them.

Esca stops before Marcus goes completely crazy with need again. He drapes his arm around Marcus' shoulders and holds him as Marcus' excitement winds down completely.

**

Esca offers to cook some food; Marcus is famished, but he insists that Esca prepare something simple.

Esca's grilled cheese sandwiches turn out to be fancy paninis on sour dough bread containing three kinds of cheese and prosciutto. Esca wrinkles his nose when Marcus tells him he'd expected American cheese in his sandwich, and maintains that these are simple, which makes Marcus laugh.

After the light “simple” meal, together they pick a movie and watch it, lounging in bed lazily. Marcus remains naked and stays off his ass, making it possible for Esca to stare at it, which also seems to drive Esca to caress Marcus all over.

Marcus enjoys Esca's touches, but they prove to be a bit too much; the young man's soft hands on his back, his fingertips tracing invisible lines over his spine, Esca's lips brushing his shoulder, even his fingers sliding down his calf, go straight to his cock. With so much unspent arousal accumulated, it's close to torture, but Marcus is more than willing to bear it.

**

They eventually fall asleep, side by side.

In the middle of the night, with his need for release still unfulfilled, Marcus glimpses his reflection in the bathroom mirror; the red of his skin is gone, replaced by purplish bruises, dark and round, like many stamps asserting Esca's dominion over him. He doesn't linger. He doesn't need to make it harder for him to ignore his cock's need for attention.

Throughout the night, Marcus wakes up numerous times, his cock hard with Esca's proximity to blame. One look at Esca's face and its handsome, relaxed features is enough to keep Marcus from touching himself. Marcus doesn't want to disappoint Esca, does he?

**

Marcus feels Esca's arm wrapping around his bare waist, feels his lips kissing his cheek. He lets Esca press his whole body to his, Esca's thigh nudging his legs apart and pressing on his cock, so hard now that it throbs with a dull ache. Oh, it's a _nice_ dream... but Esca wouldn't want him to come, not yet...

“Marcus...” Esca whispers. Marcus opens his eyes, sleep quickly slipping off him as he realizes that Esca is truly wrapped around him.

Esca buries his face into Marcus' neck and rolls his hips, his erection rubbing alongside Marcus', the soldier groaning at the feeling.

“Esca, please...” Marcus begs, delighted by the fact that Esca is as hard as he is.

“Yes, Marcus,” Esca purrs, kissing his cheek before shifting. He pulls the covers off Marcus in one swoop, exposing him to the cool air; Marcus doesn't mind, he was burning up anyway. Esca runs his hand up Marcus' inner thigh, the ex-Marine gasping as Esca's fingers graze over his balls, and over his erection. Esca's mouth closes around Marcus' nipple, sucking it hard as he rubs small circles with the pad of his thumb over the wet tip of his lover's cock. Marcus arches off the bed with a wanton moan.

Esca drags this on for a while, and Marcus doesn't mind. He relishes the way Esca plays him like a instrument. Like his _possession_. Not a thing, of course, because Esca does not order him around outside their sex games. He treats Marcus with respect and care, more so than Marcus had expected. But the idea of being Esca's toy turns him on. Esca and his toys; _those are my toys and I decide who gets to play with them_.

Marcus imagines Esca presenting him as his toy to other people, showing him off. Oh, he doesn't want anyone else touching him, but what if he was being watched, eyed with desire as Esca proudly put him on display? _Shit_. And just like that, his mind has added another layer of possibilities to his submission.

He grabs Esca by the hip, hugging him close, and humps his thigh, the relief and pleasure already making him delirious.

 _Yes, yes, yes..._ his mind chants, unable to contemplate anything but Esca's warm, firm body against his. If Esca tries to stop him now, it simply won't be possible...

Esca lets Marcus use him, kissing him, sucking on his tongue and biting his bottom lip. Esca's hand suddenly materializes on Marcus' ass, pawing roughly at it, the pain deliciously mingling with the pleasure. Marcus feels his balls tighten, he feels his toes fucking tingle. He's shaking all over, he's panting and rutting against Esca like an animal in heat, and he's going to come like one too.

“Esca?” Marcus grinds out, willing his eyes open. Esca fucking _smirks_ at him, fingers digging into the delicate skin of his ass cheek, nails cruelly cutting into it.

“Yes,” Esca murmurs, his forehead pressed to Marcus'. “ _Come_.”

“Fuck...” Marcus chokes out, feeling his control over his body leave him entirely. He comes and comes, positively vibrating with pleasure so acute, it lights up the back of his eyelids. His moans are loud, closely resembling the noises he'd made while Esca spanked him earlier. His cock twitches and pulsates against Esca's thigh, drenching Esca's hip with copious amounts of cum that drip down messily toward Esca's crotch.

Faint and breathless, Marcus remains immobile, gasping for air and sweating, keeping Esca close as he savors the afterglow of this particularly intense orgasm. He opens his eyes.

Esca is looking back at him with a pleased smile. “You can go to sleep now,” Esca says, brushing sweat soaked hair off Marcus' face.

Marcus realizes that it's barely dawn; Esca had woken him early and allowed him to come. Already drowsy, Marcus knows he's going to sleep like a goddamn log.


	10. Chapter 10

Marcus texts Esca as he leaves his little apartment to join Esca at his giant mansion.

 _Let yourself in_ , comes the reply as Marcus exits the small parking lot.

Marcus wonders if Esca has something special planned tonight. It's Marcus' night off after all. They'd kept seeing each other, two or three times a week, as their schedules allowed.

There had been a simple lunch – simple by Esca's standards, anyway. One night, Esca had tied Marcus' hands behind his back and fucked his mouth for ages, in an attempt to teach him how to deepthroat; Marcus' jaw had been sore for days. But most times, they'd just hung out until it became impossible to hold back getting into bed to fool around like two horny teenagers. Whenever Esca was in a particularly good mood, he'd push a slick finger inside Marcus, which never failed to light Marcus up with a blinding orgasm.

As Marcus drives, the thought of Esca inside him is enough to get him hard. Esca's tongue, or his cock, pushed inside his mouth, the taste of Esca's seed, his finger stretching his asshole and unerringly finding that sweet spot that sends sparks of pleasure flying from the inside out; all of those things are equally thrilling. Yet, Marcus longs to be taken fully and Esca seems bent on waiting as long as he can before claiming Marcus's body completely. Of course, Marcus feels like he already belongs to Esca, body and soul, but until Esca acknowledges he feels the same, Marcus is unable to feel quite complete.

The only times the atmosphere becomes uncomfortable between them are when Marcus asks about Esca's past, his family, or what he's going to do about the warehouse. After a handful of attempts ending up with Esca shutting him down, Marcus had stopped pushing the subject.

**

Marcus comes through the heavy, unlocked doors only to find Esca sitting on the couch, with his arms crossed and looking tense as he ignores Marcus' entrance. Right off the bat, Marcus can sense that something is very wrong with Esca.

“Hey,” Marcus says tentatively, placing one hand on Esca's shoulder. Esca shrugs the touch jerkily, startling Marcus. “What's wrong?” the ex-Marine asks.

“Don't want to talk about it,” Esca answers tightly.

Marcus finds this highly suspicious. If Esca didn't want to talk, why hadn't he just told Marcus not to come over? Is it possible that Esca wants Marcus to dig deeper? If so, Marcus is more than willing to rise to the challenge.

“Will you at least tell me what this is about?” Marcus asks carefully.

Esca silently stares at the wall with icy gray eyes.

“Otherwise, I'm going to think _I_ did something wrong,” Marcus tries again. It's a gamble, but Marcus hopes Esca will care enough to at least deign clear him of wrongdoing.

It seems to get through to Esca, because his eyes move from that single spot on the wall. He exhales and kicks a duffel bag that Marcus hadn't even noticed in his concern for Esca.

With a frown, Marcus crouches. He looks to Esca, only unzipping the bag when the young man nods his clear assent. Marcus had seen the contents enough times to know exactly what he was looking at: a mess of rope and tape and, entirely unmistakable, the strap and crank that Esca used to pin him to the couch at the warehouse.

Liathan had won. It's over. Esca had brought home all his equipment and now, he's clearly upset about having caved to his cousin's blackmail. Not wonder Esca is behaving oddly.

Marcus studies Esca, observing his clenched jaw and the cool gray of his eyes, now glued to the contents of the bag. He's a ball of nerves about to explode.

His instincts fueling his actions, Marcus digs into the bag, grasping the first cane he finds and getting up. “Come,” he says, placing his hand over Esca's forearm.

Esca uncrosses his arms, but he doesn't move otherwise. Marcus decides this might be a good time to become more assertive. He pulls Esca right off the couch. Esca protests with a weak cluck of his tongue, but he lets Marcus drag him down the hallway toward the bedroom.

Marcus stops only when they're standing next to Esca's bed.

“Hit me,” Marcus instructs him. The words ignite small glimmers of heat in Esca's gaze, but the young man keeps his arms to his side and remains silent. “Right here,” Marcus insists, tapping his left cheek twice with the pad of his forefinger.

Marcus waits for long seconds. Then he spies a slight weight shift in Esca's body, and his cock grows inside his jeans in anticipation. He knows Esca will notice his arousal, and he can only hope it'll help his cause.

Esca's slap comes abruptly, swift and without the slightest change of expression in Esca's face, which remains a cold mask. The force behind it isn't as strong as usual, but Marcus deems it a good start. He shoves the cane into Esca's hand and immediately removes his own shirt, his pulse already racing at the idea of being hit with a bamboo stick for the first time.

He undoes his pants next, shoving them down before turning his back to Esca, pants bunched right under his ass. “Hit me,” he repeats, leaning on the bed and bending over to show off his ass.

A few seconds pass, then suddenly, the cane makes a swishing sound before landing right on Marcus' ass, the pain stealing away Marcus' breath.

Esca pushes down at Marcus' shoulder, the soldier stumbling and falling face first on the bedding as a second line of fire burns across his ass. Esca hits him again, harder, and Marcus cries out, struggling to crawl further on the mattress; he's not trying to escape – hell, no – he just wants to lay more comfortably, only to offer himself to Esca more completely.

Esca drops the cane on the bed just long enough to shove Marcus' pants down further, uncovering the back of his thighs. He picks the stick back up and rains down blows on each side. Marcus grinds his erection into the soft fabric of the comforter, which he fists unconsciously, wondering if Esca likes what he sees; his good little soldier humping the bed, the muscles of ass flexing as he's struck with the cane, over and over. He's hit so many times, Marcus knows the marks will crisscross one another in distinct patterns he and Esca will both appreciate later on.

Esca returns his attention to Marcus' ass, beating it mercilessly all over again, before throwing the cane down to the floor with a clatter. The noise alerts Marcus, who turns over to find out what's wrong.

“Sorry...” Esca pants, sweat beading on his forehead and creating dark wet spots on his shirt.

“Sorry for what?” Marcus mumbles, confused. He glances at the cane on the floor, eyes widening when he sees it broken, its middle bent and splintered.

“I shouldn't take out my frustration on you,” Esca rushes to answer.

“Would you rather talk?”

Esca nods.

Marcus feels dizzy from the adrenalin and all those precious endorphins coursing through his body. He wants more. _Much_ more. “Okay, talking is good. We can talk, ” Marcus says, fighting the stiflingly bothersome pants around his ankles right off his feet before addressing Esca again. “ _After_ ,” he adds, pulling his collar out of his pocket before dropping his pants to the floor with a smirk.

Ignoring the stinging on his backside, Marcus sits up and places the collar around his neck. He reaches for Esca's belt, pulling it out of its loops and then, placing it in Esca's hands. He stares into Esca's eyes, willing all of his raw desire to show through. “Hit me,” he repeats quietly, but resolutely.

Esca hesitates again,which worries Marcus. Esca had never needed this much convincing to hurt his Soldier.

Marcus wraps his hand around his own cock, stroking it as he speaks. “We need this. Right now, I think you might need it even more than I do, but _I_ need it too.” Marcus pleads, pressing his free hand over Esca's crotch, cupping his hardening cock through the clothing. To Marcus' delight, Esca's whole body shudders, and the young man rocks his hips with a sigh to better grind his erection into Marcus' palm.

Emboldened by Esca's reaction, Marcus hoists himself backward on the bed, settling with his legs spread, his arms out and his chin up. “Hit me, Esca. _Please_ ,” he begs, looking at the ceiling.

Within seconds, Esca relents. He swings the belt, striking Marcus' thigh. This time, Esca is more calm, and it shows as he works methodically, the belt licking at Marcus' muscular thighs in small increments from knee to hip. He stripes Marcus' torso too, the end of the belt wrapping around his ribs with a nasty after-bite that makes Marcus' eyes water; he screams, his back cambering with each blow of the brutal whipping.

“Turn over,” Esca orders breathlessly. Lightheaded, Marcus gracelessly flips onto his belly, his arms shaky and weak. Esca wastes no time whipping his entire back, which had been spared from the cane. Esca doesn't go easy on him. He takes a moment to whip Marcus' wide shoulders, and even the back of his upper arms.

“Marcus...” Esca whispers. Marcus looks back at Esca, the young man's cheeks aflame and his chest heaving from exertion. The fire he sees in Esca's eyes pleases Marcus beyond belief. “Reach back and spread your arse for me,” Esca commands, raising an eyebrow at him. “And keep looking forward.”

Marcus gladly obeys, placing a hand on either ass cheek and eagerly spreading them, crudely exposing himself to the young man. His erection throbs as he pictures Esca looking straight at his hole; he moans softly into the bedding.

He gasps when he feels Esca dragging the end of the belt up and down his cleft, his hole twitching as the cool leather slips over it multiple times. Fuck. Marcus breathes in and out and braces himself, his throbbing erection deliciously trapped between the bed and his belly.

Esca whips him right between his ass cheeks, the leather biting sharply into his delicate skin. Marcus' loud scream echoes off the bedroom walls, completely unchecked. Marcus' control over his body slips away; he loses his grip on his ass cheeks as they contract, his hips twisting jerkily under the pain. It takes every bit of his self-control to not just scamper off the bed.

But the pain is almost immediately met with matching sparks of pleasure that travel straight to his cock. Marcus can't remember a time when pain had been this close to pleasure. He'd experienced pleasure and pain as very close companions, yes, but they never were exactly the same. Is it because Esca's beating him harder than he'd had since they'd started seeing each other? Or is it that Esca is whipping him in such a vulnerable place? Whatever the reason, it seems his brain is so scrambled that it's treating both sensations almost as one and the same.

“Again,” Esca orders behind him.

Marcus takes a deep breath, hands trembling as he spreads himself open again. He keeps breathing through his mouth, shakily but valiantly – nothing matters more than to make Esca happy. And, god does he fucking love it too.

Marcus positively jumps when Esca runs a slippery fingertip down his crack. Esca huffs derisively and rubs small, wet circles around Marcus' asshole; it feels like a wonderful reward. Marcus is about to beg Esca to push his finger inside him when the digit is withdrawn and abruptly replaced with the harsh snap of leather.

This time, staying put is a bit easier, but Marcus still strains under his instincts for self-preservation. He loses his grips on his ass and rocks his hips, the slight pressure on his erection enough to bring him to the cusp of an orgasm.

 _More_.

Marcus places his fingers back on his ass, breathing harshly.

“Oh, fuck!” Marcus bellows, as the leather licks at his tender flesh. “Esca, yes...” he hisses. This time, instead of letting go, he stubbornly digs his fingers into the muscles of his own ass to better spread himself.

Esca chuckles behind him, mumbling something under his breath about Marcus being a slut, which sends a wave of equal pride and shame through Marcus. Was that even possible? Marcus asks himself before his brain forms the next thought: _more_.

Esca, seemingly reading Marcus' thoughts, lays down a short series of blows starting at his tailbone, and ending on his perineum, frighteningly close to his balls.

Marcus is drowning. He can't think straight. He can feel every fiber in his body but at the same time, he has the impression he's floating out of it. The belt licks at his asshole one more time; Marcus lets go of his ass and starts coming, his body convulsing uncontrollably as his cock pulsates underneath him, creating a growing warm, wet patch of cum that spreads between him and the comforter.

Marcus just lays there, stunned by the intensity and suddenness of his orgasm. He has the nagging feeling he's done something wrong, but it's hard to care when your whole body tingles with the aftershocks of not only a mind blowing climax, but the harshest beating Esca had ever dished out.

“You came,” Esca says behind him.

Marcus swallows hard, suddenly understanding that niggling feeling he had. Esca likes to be warned before Marcus comes, something he'd just failed to do. “Sorry,” he rasps, turning to his side sluggishly.

“Oh, no. Don't apologize. That was so fucking _hot_...” Esca purrs before climbing onto the bed and dropping the belt. He lays next to Marcus, holding his face between his hands to kiss him.

“Wait. This was supposed to be about you. This was for _you_ ,” Marcus mumbles, pawing at the front of Esca's jeans, feeling the young man's persisting erection through it.

“Later,” Esca retorts, gently pushing Marcus' hands away.

“But...” Marcus protests.

“I tell you what to do and when,” Esca reminds him.

“Fuck that,” Marcus retorts with a smirk, new determination springing forth through his pleasure addled mind.

Marcus doesn't care that buttons fly off Esca's shirt as he yanks him closer. He kisses him fiercely, his blood thick with desire once more, and he pushes Esca onto his back, kissing down his throat and pale chest feverishly. His abused skin is burning as hot as his hunger for Esca, who seems to have decided to yield to Marcus' whims once more tonight.

Marcus unceremoniously shoves Esca's pants and underwear down, and takes his cock into his mouth without any further delay. He sucks him in deep, and moans around him. He pulls back, taking a moment to lap at Esca's balls before swallowing him again.

Esca had instructed Marcus on how to give better head, and now he has to deal with the consequences. Marcus is beyond pleased to see Esca quickly losing it, panting and arching off the bed as the tip of his cock hits the back of Marcus' throat.

Marcus pulls off, licks a wet stripe between Esca's tight balls, sending a scorching hot look in his direction. He is met with a challenging gaze, one eyebrow arching over darkened gray eyes.

“Lick my arse,” Esca breathes from above, the order sending an intense flash of heat through Marcus.

To be Esca's willing sex toy, to satisfy all his sexual cravings, to perform dirty acts for him, is as much of a turn on as everything else. He doesn't bother answering, he just rolls Esca over so he can spread his ass cheeks with his hands.

Esca's tight little opening is pink, and surrounded by fine dark blond hairs. Marcus licks his lips and dives in to kiss it, then swirls the tip of his tongue around it. Esca pushes back into Marcus, wriggling his ass and moaning wantonly. Encouraged by Esca's pleased noises, he licks at it more firmly, his senses filled with the smell and taste of Esca.

Esca shifts, rising his hips and arching his back as he leans on his elbows. Marcus moves with him and keeps his nose pressed between his ass cheeks, tonguing his asshole the best he can.

“My cock, Marcus...” Esca breathes. Marcus reaches around Esca, curling his hand around his cock as he licks and sucks frenetically.

Marcus feels Esca's cock throb between his fingers, and he moans against Esca's hole as he senses the young man approaching release. He pushes his tongue inside the ring of muscles, triggering Esca's orgasm. His cock pulses in his hand, cum landing on the bed, his asshole quivering around the tip of Marcus's probing tongue.

Esca sags a little; Marcus' tongue slips out of Esca. Marcus licks at the pink hole one more time, smirking as he watches it twitch, as Esca's body gives one last shudder. Esca collapses forward on the bed, Marcus following him soon after, pressing his body to Esca's in search of heat.

They lay on the bed, silent for long minutes. It's not uncomfortable, it just feels natural to not only enjoy the afterglow, but to let their emotions settle. For the first time since they'd started dating, it hadn't been a scene carefully planned by Esca; Marcus had provoked him into it, and it was new territory for both of them.

**

Esca eventually disappears into the bathroom, where he fills the bath. He returns to the bed, offering his hand to Marcus, who lets himself be peeled off the mattress. A bath sounds like a wonderful idea.

Marcus reclines with his back against Esca's chest, feeling like he's just been through an obstacle course, one the Marines would put him through. He's very grateful that Esca uses his bare hands to gently clean his sore skin, rather than a rough washcloth. Esca kisses the back of his neck when he's done.

“So, the warehouse... it's over?” Marcus asks, interrupting the long, comfortable silence that had settled over them.

“I spent the week referring my clients to other doms,” Esca answers.

“Just _referring_? No... hands on?” Marcus asks. If Esca hadn't dished out punishment to any of his subs all week, Marcus could understand why he'd been so tense.

“I wasn't in the mood. I was upset,” Esca replies.

“Oh.” Marcus uttered, uneasily. He'd pushed Esca when he'd been upset. Had he crossed a line? “Sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have...”

“No,” Esca interrupts him, wrapping his arms around him. “You did the right thing. I have a tendency to withdraw when I'm upset.”

“I noticed,” Marcus says with a small huff. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Esca tells him, kissing his cheek. “I put you through your paces, huh?”

“Yeah. It was great,” Marcus replies, unable to repress a wide smile. “I kinda miss it, you know?”

“Miss what?”

Marcus takes a moment to think; he doesn't want Esca to misunderstand.

“The rush I felt when we first met. The idea that you were going to do whatever you wanted, and that I wouldn't be able to stop you. Don't get me wrong,” Marcus explains, patting Esca's hand on his chest. “I love how things are now. I love that you gave me a safeword...”

“But?”

“But... I like it when you whale on me so hard that I wonder if you'll stop if I say my safeword. I know you would stop, but the fear that you might _not_ is a rush.”

“I can't be that brutal every time. You'd constantly be covered in bruises,” Esca reasons.

“I know. I can't make up for all the subs you lost, but I want you to keep in mind that I can take quite a lot,” Marcus replies.

“I know. I haven't forgotten,” Esca tells him. “But if I ever do forget, or if you need me to...” he pauses to think. “If you need me to become K for a time, then I can be him for you.”

Marcus shivers in the warm water as his heart flutters. Esca kisses the corner of his mouth as Marcus turns his head to look at him as he speaks. “Thank you.” Another awkwardly angled kiss.

“It's going to be the anniversary of my parents' death soon,” Esca says without segue.

“I'm sorry,” Marcus replies, waiting as his heart thumps in his chest. Esca had never brought this up before. The silence stretches on, as if Esca expects him to say something else. “What happened to them?” he asks tentatively.

Esca sags a bit behind him and sighs. “My father killed my mum. Slashed her throat, then his own, right in front of me in a fit of paranoia. I was seven,” he answers, his voice low, but steady.

Marcus stiffens, wants to turn around to look at Esca, but the young man tightens his hold and presses his face into Marcus' neck and kisses him.

“Maybe that's why I'm the way I am. I don't know,” Esca whispers in his ear, answering a question Marcus hadn't even asked. Marcus doesn't know what to say. What _could_ he say?

“When was the last time you got that leg looked at?” Esca asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Not since last year,” Marcus answers, brow puckered. “Why?”

“It would make me very happy if I could arrange for you to see a specialist. To see if he could take that shrapnel out, and help get rid of the pain for good.”

Marcus had told Esca about the V.A. hospital not wanting to attempt the delicate surgery. The risks were too high, and Marcus was able to live a relatively normal life. They'd offered pain management, but Marcus didn't like the way the narcotics dulled everything else too. Marcus doesn't have the health insurance to cover such a procedure, nor does he have the funds.

“Esca...” Marcus murmurs, tears prickling his eyes. Esca rubs his chest, kissing his shoulder before laying his chin on it.

“It would make so happy if you let me help you. You don't deserve to live like this...”

“I don't know what to say...”

“Say you'll see my doctor, then,” Esca offers.

“What if... What if it changes me?”

“Of course it will change you. You might be able to join the Marines again,” Esca replies.

“You wouldn't mind?”

“I want you to be happy. If it takes you going back to the Marines, then I expect you to do it.”

Marcus is surprised by Esca's words, as if he'd expected the young man to voice an opinion matching his mother's.

When Marcus had announced he'd been discharged, his mom hadn't held back her emotion. What mother wouldn't be relieved at the thought of her son not having to be in a combat zone? But what bothered Marcus was that she seemed happy – almost gleeful – he was hurt, like it was a godsend, or a long-awaited blessing. Of course she hadn't considered the pain, or how much Marcus thrived among the Marines. She never understood his need to redeem his father's name or his attraction for the hard, intense life of a soldier. She wanted him to settle down as soon as possible and have a family. He couldn't blame her for wanting that for him, but after all these years, it was getting old, and he wished she'd just accept he wasn't quite made for a traditional life.

“I started having the... my urges after I got hurt. What if they go away after I'm healed?” Marcus asks.

“I'm willing to take that risk,” Esca says easily. “But I don't think that's the way these things work. Fixing your leg won't change the way your brain is wired.”

Marcus shakes his head, letting out a short bewildered chuckle. “I'll do it. Set it up,” Marcus announces.

“Thank you.”

They finally climb out of the tub, Esca insisting on drying Marcus.

Esca finishes gently patting Marcus' legs dry, with a towel he then carelessly drops on the marble floor. He unexpectedly kneels down on the thick rug there, right in front of Marcus, sliding splayed hands up his legs.

He presses his nose to Marcus' groin, his hands moving up and down over the back of his muscle-packed thighs. Marcus' cock awakens and grows as Esca licks at the soft skin of Marcus' groin, leaving a wet trail of saliva on the way to his hip. He then kisses down his thigh, his lips nothing but a whisper upon his skin, until he reaches Marcus' scar.

Gray eyes wide open and face tilted up, Esca slowly lays kisses along the healed tissues of Marcus' old injury. The reverence, the gentleness of the action, makes Marcus' eyes mist over. He tips his head back, hoping it will help keep the tears from overflowing. He seems to win his fight over the tears, at least for now; he looks down again.

Once he's done worshiping the scar, Esca licks his lips sensually, keeping his eyes locked into Marcus' gaze as he returns his attention to Marcus' groin. By now, Marcus' cock is erect again, stirred by Esca's proximity and the young man kneeling in front of him.

_I've never been on my knees..._

Yeah, well, Esca is on his knees yet _again_ , breath short and his lips parted, looking up at Marcus like he's the center of his universe. Marcus does his best to return the sentiment without tears spilling over from his eyes.

Esca keeps his head angled back and pulls out his tongue with a lustful sheen in his beautiful eyes. His tongue glides under Marcus' cock, from root to tip, Marcus gasping as his cock jumps under the light touch.

The burning of his skin has decreased, but it's still there, a familiar dull throb that Marcus thoroughly enjoys.

Esca flicks his tongue at Marcus' cock head before taking it into his mouth. He goes slow, in contrast with their earlier frenzy. Marcus is swallowed inch by inch, Esca pulling off often to look up, cheeks flushed and eyes darkened by lust. There's something else in Esca's gaze, something that makes Marcus' heart palpitate. _Fuck_. Marcus reminds himself not to read too much into it.

Marcus is not an idiot. He can see where this is going. Marcus is falling for Esca in a big way. He's never felt like this before. Marcus had _liked_ people, he'd _loved_ Cottia, but he'd never felt like he _needed_ a lover like he needed air. He gasps at the thought of Esca not feeling as he does, but he pushes it away to focus on Esca again, who's now slowly bobbing up and down his erection, one hand fondling his balls, the other resting lightly on Marcus' hip.

“I want to taste you,” Esca whispers, his hand wrapped around Marcus' saliva-slick cock to pump it as he looks up again. Esca is not begging, but it's not a command either. Just a simple statement, honest and true.

Marcus threads the fingers of one hand through Esca's hair. “Please,” he replies, plaintively, obviously begging for Esca to allow him to satisfy the desire he'd just voiced.

Esca obliges him by increasing the speed of his ministrations. After having already had an orgasm, Marcus thinks he should be able to last longer than this. But no, because nothing turns Marcus on like Esca.

Marcus leans a little more on the vanity, knees bending a little as he feels his body slip from under his control. It should be less intense, this being his second time coming tonight, but fuck... It's not. It's better.

Marcus had been holding back when he came on the bed; he hadn't meant to come at that moment, so he'd tried to rein it in, consciously or not, so as to not disappoint Esca. But now? Esca wanted this.

_Esca wants me to come. Esca wants to taste my cum on his tongue. Esca wants me, he does..._

He involuntarily grasps Esca's short hair and jerks his hips forward. Esca splutters around his erection, eye watering from choking. The young man's hands fan over Marcus' ass as he comes, keeping him in place, buried inside Esca's mouth

Marcus grunts as his cock shoots cum right down Esca's throat, which Marcus feels contract around him as Esca swallows his seed in gulps.

Esca waits. He waits until Marcus regains some of his senses, releasing his hair and allowing him to pull off.

Marcus, breathless, watches as Esca rises to his feet, licking his lips. Esca drapes his arm around Marcus' neck, pressing his forehead to his.

“Thank you,” Esca murmurs.

Marcus lets out a short huff before smiling. “You're welcome.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 was supposed be to the last, but I decided to go for twelve chapters. Consider this a bonus chapter! Sorry for taking so long. Cheers to Abbeyjewel for her greatly appreciated beta work.

Esca pulls into the hospital parking lot just as the rain starts falling. He stops in front of the main entrance. For long seconds, only the sound of the windshield wipers can be heard in the BMW. Marcus takes a deep breath before digging into his pocket.

“I want you to take this back,” Marcus says, thrusting his collar into Esca's hand.

“What? Why?” Esca asks. The complete confusion written over his features makes Marcus' heart wrench in his chest.

“There's a chance I won't make it,” Marcus reminds him.

It's a simple fact, and Esca knows this. The risks are high, and Marcus cannot ignore the possibility he might not make it through the operation. If he bleeds out – or God knows what – and dies during the surgery, he wants Esca to have a token to remember him by. There is a much more important reason however. “I want you to be free of guilt if I die. It won't be your fault.”

“You _will_ make it,” Esca counters, pushing Marcus' hand away with a frown.

“No one else knows what this collar means to me,” Marcus insists, grabbing a hold of Esca's wrist to shove the collar back into his hand. “I want you to have it if something goes wrong.” There are other words, sweet yet incredibly frightening, on the tip of Marcus' tongue, but something still holds him back. Why were emotional battles always the hardest to win? He'd take a fistfight over this, any day. “Take it. I beg you.”

“Alright. I'll keep it,” Esca relents. “But only because I trust you'll _live_ , and I'll be able to give it back to you,” he adds stubbornly.

“Thank you,” Marcus says, part of his anxiety easing at Esca's acceptance of the collar. “Sorry. I wish you could come in...”

“We've already discussed this. You decided to wait until after the surgery, and I agreed,” Esca reminds him.

That much is true. He's still afraid to tell his mom the truth about Esca. He would hate to lie about their relationship if Esca and his mother met at the hospital. Keeping the truth from her was one thing; lying in front of his beloved Esca was another. So for now, as far as Marcus' mother is concerned, Esca is just a mysterious benefactor. Not very surprisingly, his mother hadn't expressed any desire to meet Esca. Marcus knows all too well why.

“Yeah, well, I'm still sorry,” Marcus says, pulling Esca into a tight hug. “I'll be in touch as soon as my mom lets me go back to my place.”

They come apart, and Marcus is about to open the door to exit when he impulsively turns around to pull Esca into a kiss, not caring one bit if anyone sees them as they kiss passionately. He presses his forehead to Esca's for a moment before finally opening the door.

He stands there in the icy rain, watching as the BMW slowly makes its way out of the lot. He feels as if his heart is still in the car with Esca. He looks up at the sky and takes a few breaths, readying himself to face his mother.

**

Marcus relaxes into his gurney as the sedative relieves the tension in his limbs and the tightness in his chest. He squints at the fluorescent lights he passes as he's taken to the operating room, wishing Esca was with him; to hold his hand would bring such comfort. _Fuck_. He might never see Esca again. He might never get to tell him how he feels...

Before long, the anesthetist is ready to inject the drugs into his I.V. line. She pushes the plunger, asking Marcus to count backward from ten.

“Ten, nine, Esca...” Marcus mumbles as he loses consciousness.

**

“Mr. Aquila is awake. He was agitated, so I gave him a mild sedative. He's better now, you may come in,” the nurse announces. Lutor, Marcus' mother and Marcus' uncle spring out of their uncomfortable chairs at the exact same time, and form a file.

“Oh, by the way, are you Esca?” the nurse hesitantly asks Lutor as they enter the room. “He kept repeating that name while he was disoriented.”

“Uh-uh. Esca's his boyfriend,” Lutor replies casually. He freezes on the spot instantly; he knows he screwed up.

“I beg your pardon?” Marcus' mother asks pointedly, turning around to glare at Lutor. “This is a joke, right? One of those silly games you two play?”

“I, uh...” Lutor stammers pitifully, the little hamster in his brain running at full speed to try to find a way out of his faux-pas. A joke? Yeah, it might work. He musters a wide fake smile, but rescue comes from a groggy sounding Marcus.

“Nope. No joke,” he says from his bed. He clucks his tongue once and grimaces. “Can I get some water, please?”

Lutor's stiff smile wilts. The nurse hands her patient a bottle of water then scurries out of the room, probably sensing the tension in the air.

“So, help me understand... The man paying for all this isn't a friend, but your _lover_?” his mother asks incredulously, her hands on her hips.

“Correct,” Marcus answers with a nod before sipping more water.

“You lied to me,” she says accusingly.

“No. I just kept details of my love life to myself,” Marcus corrects her.

“You're not gay, Marcus. This is ridiculous. You always liked girls,” she argues.

“I like both, mom. Boys and girls. Have for a while now. It's just that Esca is my first boyfriend,” he says with a shrug.

“This isn't funny,” she says dryly.

“It's not meant to be,” Marcus retorts.

“What about your plans to settle down and have a family?”

“That always was your plan, mom, not mine. Don't you ever listen to me?”

“Of course, dear, but you don't always know what's best for you. And this... man, he agrees with you going back to the Marines, I suppose?” she asks snidely.

“He wants me to be happy, so yes, he does,” Marcus snaps.

“If he really cared about you, he wouldn't let you go,” she argues back.

“If you really cared about me, you would accept me the way I am,” Marcus counters.

“How can you say that? I'm your mother, of course I care about you. This man...”

“His name is Esca!” Marcus interjects, anger rumbling inside him despite his weakened state.

“This _Esca_ ,” she repeats with clear disdain, “he's probably just trying to buy your love with this surgery. He's a stranger. I'm your mother,” she pleads, her voice growing more strident as she gets more upset.

“You don't even know him,” Marcus protests.

“I don't want to know him!” she cries.

The injustice of it all makes Marcus want to say things he might regret. Instead, he snaps his mouth shut. _Breathe and look forward_ , he thinks, just like Esca says all the time. Marcus takes a deep breath.

“Alright. That's it. I'm not going to argue with you about this. I don't need this bullshit. Not now, and not here,” Marcus says wearily. “As a matter of fact, why don't you just go home. I'll manage. I'll stay with Esca until I'm back on my feet. Uncle, why don't you take her home? I'll be fine,” he adds with finality.

“Have it your way. As usual,” his mom spits, turning her heels and leaving the room in a huff, her late husband's brother looking on with wide eyes.

“Well, that didn't go very well,” he comments, looking between Lutor and Marcus.

“Yeah, well, you know how she can be,” Marcus replies.

“Yes. I do know,” he says sympathetically, patting Marcus' shoulder lightly. “Are you sure you're going to be fine?”

“Positive,” Marcus assures him. “The doctor told you that much, didn't he?”

“Yes, he did. Alright. I should go after her,” he says. “And for what it's worth, I'm happy for you and I'd love to meet Esca,” he says, with nothing but warmth in his eyes.

“I'll introduce you when my leg's healed,” Marcus promises.

“Good. Get better soon, son. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you,” Marcus says, watching his uncle leave. He reminds Marcus of his own father so much. It used to bother Marcus as a child, but now, he finds his presence soothing. Too bad he had to play buffer between him and his mother so damn often.

“I'm sorry. I fucked up,” Lutor apologizes sheepishly after the uncle leaves the room.

“Bah. Don't be. I should have come out to her already. I'm just glad that's done,” Marcus reassures his best friend.

Suddenly, whatever energy he had is gone, depleted by the short argument. He sighs and clumsily places the water bottle on the tray before him.

“Could you text Esca and tell him he'll have to pick me up? Ask him to come,” Marcus mumbles as he drifts off to sleep, his mind miles away from what had just happened. Everything would be fine, he thinks, because Esca will be here when he wakes up.

**

Esca comes as soon as he can. Even though Lutor had told Esca his boyfriend was doing well, the young British man looks worried as he enters the room. Marcus cannot help grinning when he sees Esca.

“Are you alright?” Esca asks, the perfect picture of concern.

“I'm fine,” Marcus assures him. “The doc says I can be discharged tomorrow.”

“Good,” Esca says, his shoulders drooping as some of the tension leaves his body. “Your mum's gone already?”

“She knows about us,” Marcus explains simply. “Didn't sit too well with her.”

“My fault,” Lutor pipes behind Esca raising his hand with his lips pressed together. “I slipped up and told the nurse Marcus had a boyfriend.”

“ _Slipped up_?” Esca asks with a frown.

“Apparently, I woke up all panicked and kept asking for you...” Marcus explains. Esca's frown disappears, replaced by a tilt of his head, just as the nurse pokes her head in to remind them there is only fifteen minutes left before the end of visiting hours.

“Okay. I'll leave now, and let you guys do whatever it is you do. Call me if you need anything,” Lutor announces hastily, stepping closer to give Marcus a careful hug. “I'm sorry. You know I'm a horrible liar.”

“No sweat. Thanks, man,” Marcus replies with a smile, patting Lutor's back.

Lutor shakes Esca's hand. “Don't let him boss you around too much. Every time I play nurse for him, he turns me into his personal slave,” he says.

“Don't worry. No way I'm going to let _that_ happen,” Esca promises, sharing a knowing glance with Marcus, who presses his lips together to repress a laugh.

As soon as they are alone, Esca's expression changes drastically. The young man approaches the bed, nervously playing with the hem of his jacket, avoiding Marcus' gaze.

“What's the matter?” Marcus asks, sensing the sudden change in his lover's mood. Esca breathes in and out. The serious look on Esca's face is starting to worry Marcus. “Tell me, for Christ's sake,” he urges him, expecting horrible news.

Esca retrieves a small parcel wrapped in brown paper from his pocket. He silently hands it to Marcus, whose heart is thumping in his chest. “What's this?” he asks, swallowing hard. Why the damn dramatics?

“Open it,” Esca utters in an unusually small voice. “I meant to give it to you later. After you were recovered. But you changed the plans.”

Marcus tears at the paper, unveiling his collar, neatly coiled on itself. He picks it up, his jaw dropping as its whole length comes into view.

Esca had engraved a word on it, in elegant letters: _Esca's_. Every fiber of Marcus' being thrums at the thought of belonging to Esca. It brings a measure of peace to his soul amid the uncertainty of his life.

He smiles at Esca, running his fingertips over the indents. “It's perfect. I'd kiss you if it didn't hurt so much to move.”

Esca leans across the gap separating them; Marcus slides his hand behind Esca's head and holds him as they kiss. It's gentle and chaste. “I'm yours, Esca...” he whispers, noticing how the setting sun streaming through the window highlights tiny specks of green in Esca's irises. _So gorgeous_...

“And I'm yours,” Esca replies, cupping Marcus' cheek as he straightens up.

An overwhelming wave of happiness sweeps Marcus up.

“Fuck it,” Marcus says with a shrug. He doesn't know if it's the drugs in his bloodstream. He doesn't know if it's because he's so happy to be reunited with Esca. He doesn't know if it's because his mom finally knows the truth. Whatever the reason, he decides to go for broke. “I couldn't think of anyone else before the surgery, and you were all I thought about since I woke up.” He pauses, squeezing the collar between his fingers.

Esca seems to be holding his breath.

“I think I'm in love with you,” he tells Esca, his heart beating wildly in his chest, not unlike it used to right before charging into battle.

Within a second, Esca's lips are on his again, as he kisses Marcus long and hard before pulling back. “Do you have any idea how happy that makes me?” he asks in a whisper. “I love you, Marcus. I'm so happy you're mine, and I will do my best to make you happy,” Esca promises.

“I'm already happy,” Marcus retorts.

**

It's the light sound of Esca's feet shuffling on the carpet that wakes Marcus from his latest nap. He opens his eyes and stretches carefully, his yawn drawing Esca's attention away from the pile of documents he was sifting through.

“Morning, sunshine,” Esca singsongs, glancing at him over a piece of paper.

Marcus wrinkles his nose. “Morning? Already?”

He'd spent the last few days at Esca's, the young man catering to all his needs. For days now, Marcus couldn't do much else but lay on his back, eat homemade soup in bed and lean on Esca to go to the bathroom. But right now, he finally feels as if some of the fog has lifted, and that he's regained some of his strength.

“Nah. I'm messing with you. It's still Thursday. Almost dinner time,” Esca replies with a smirk. He's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt too big for him. It really doesn't do anything to show off his slender, muscle packed physique, but somehow it just makes images of Esca's naked body flash into Marcus' mind, and his body starts responding in no subtle ways.

“Come here,” Marcus calls, carefully sitting up. He steals one of Esca's pillows and places it behind his neck. The belt to the bathrobe he borrowed from Esca has come undone in his sleep, and the garment now lays open, leaving only a thin sheet covering him up to the chest. He becomes very aware of Esca's expensive silky bedding against his skin, and his lover's scent, which permeates the pillow he just handled.

“Bathroom run?” Esca asks distractedly, still scanning a piece of paper.

“No. Not this time. Just come here,” he insists, patting the bed.

Esca eventually puts the papers back down and sits by Marcus, on the very edge of the bed, looking at him expectantly. “Are you hungry again?” he tries.

“No.” Well, he _is_ , but it's not the point right now.

“Well?” Esca asks.

Marcus places his hand over Esca's knee and squeezes it lightly, tilting his head with a flirtatious smirk he hopes will send the right message. His cock is half-hard, and filling rapidly now that he's touching Esca.

“Feeling better, I see,” Esca comments, eying the tented sheet resting over Marcus' groin.

“Much better,” he purrs, glancing at his collar now hanging on the headboard above him. The mere sight of it makes the fire inside his lower abdomen roar, and his cock become fully erect. He feels ridiculously horny; it's as if the carnal desires the surgery had suppressed for the past few days are coming back with a vengeance.

“Absolutely not,” Esca says categorically, knowing exactly the direction in which Marcus' thoughts are heading.

“Why not?” Marcus asks even though he can easily guess why.

“You're on painkillers, love. It defies the purpose of me getting rough, don't you think?” Esca asks, slinking back to his feet.

“Ah. Yes. _That_...” Marcus agrees, his voice clipped by disappointment. His leg is healing after all, and Marcus isn't surprised that Esca is choosing to be sensible at a time like this. Recklessness is Marcus' specialty, not Esca's.

“I won't resume our games until you're cleared for work by your doctor,” Esca tells him.

“What? No! That's just mean,” Marcus protests. “It might take weeks!”

“It might,” Esca acquiesces, unmoved, as he heads to the other side of the bed.

Marcus crosses his arms over his chest and clamps his jaw shut, sulking as best he can. He has half a mind to throw a tantrum. Esca simply laughs, and Marcus glares at him.

“You're a little moody,” Esca remarks.

Marcus shrugs and looks away. The meds _are_ making him grumpy; it's one of the reasons why he avoids them as much as possible. He knows Esca's right on all counts, but it doesn't mean he wants to admit it out loud. He decides to ignore Esca for as long as he can.

The other side of the mattress dips under Esca's weight and Marcus' resolve to sulk evaporates. He turns his head, finding Esca crawling closer to him on the bed, a suggestive smile curving his lips. Marcus' irritation melts at the sight.

Esca kneels inches away from him, his hands resting on his own knees for support. “If I said yes to you now, what would you have me do?” he asks, observing Marcus' face closely.

“Well, I, uh... I don't know...” Marcus mumbles. “A couple of slaps, I thought. A little spanking maybe...”

“ _Maybe_? You didn't think this through?” Esca's gray eyes sweep over Marcus' whole body, over his now obvious erection under the sheet, before they flick back to Marcus' reddening face.

“Not really...” Marcus admits. “I just woke up feeling horny...”

“I have thought this through,” Esca tells him. “I think about it all the time.”

“You do? Like what?” Marcus asks, his breath hitching.

“Lie down,” Esca orders instead of answering, his voice hardening. He tugs the pillow from behind Marcus' head.

Marcus obediently slinks back down on the mattress.

“If I'd said yes and allowed you to wear your collar, how far would you want me to go?” Esca reiterates.

“Esca...” Marcus whispers, aware that his voice is hoarse with arousal. “What are you doing?” he asks. He knows Esca isn't going to dominate him tonight, fine. But does he have to tease him like this?

“Nothing. I just want you to think,” Esca replies casually. He shifts, laying on his side next to Marcus, still not touching him. “Close your eyes, listen to me and _think_ ,” he orders, his voice low and reassuring.

Before closing his eyes, Marcus looks into Esca's, the heat in them making his cock twitch with desire. Marcus is positively bursting at the seams with curiosity.

Esca's fingertips brush over Marcus' lips. “Those sexy lips of yours, they've been wrapped around how many cocks?”

“Just one,” Marcus replies tightly, frowning. Esca already knew the answer to this question; he just wanted to hear it out loud, didn't he? Marcus' frown smooths out as quickly as it came.

“Whose?” Esca asks needlessly, his fingers now following the line of Marcus' jaw.

“Yours,” Marcus answers, swallowing hard. His pulse speeds up as he imagines Esca hungrily staring at his mouth, before straddling him to force his erection past his lips as Marcus lays on the bed, helpless and weak.

_Fuck yes._

Marcus wonders if he should share this thought with his boyfriend when Esca interrupts his daydreaming.

“It's one of the things I think about. I love knowing I was the first one to have you like this. Do you want me to keep talking?” Esca asks, his warm breath ghosting over Marcus' cheek as he speaks.

“Fuck,” Marcus says under his breath. He hears Esca's soft huff.

“That's not an answer,” Esca retorts, his fingers tracing the shell of his ear.

“Yes. Please, tell me,” Marcus begs.

“You might be well enough for a nip of my teeth here,” Esca says, his finger sliding down his lover's neck. “Or maybe a drag of my nails there...” Esca muses, lightly scratching along the line of Marcus' collarbone, drawing another swear from him. “Oh. You like that, huh?” Esca mocks.

“Yes... You know I do,” Marcus replies breathlessly.

“I bet you'd want more... Bites on your neck, hard enough to leave bruises, and red streaks up your ribs... Rough enough?”

“Not even close,” Marcus answers tauntingly.

Esca clucks his tongue three times. “So greedy,” he scolds.

Marcus isn't fooled. He can hear the smile in Esca's voice; he smiles too. “Just the way you like me...”

Next, Esca slowly pulls the sheet down, right below Marcus' navel. His touch is gone for long seconds during which Marcus can only imagine Esca is looking at him, hungry gray eyes roaming over his body.

“I know people. People who would appreciate seeing you like this,” Esca confides, referring to something he's mentioned before, about showing Marcus off to other people. Of course, Esca remembers Marcus had been aroused by the idea. “Men,” Esca suggests, pausing for a few seconds.

Marcus isn't averse to the idea at all. He emits a low hum and waits.

“And women,” Esca adds, waiting again.

With his eyes closed, it's easy to picture the scene: Marcus imagines himself in the middle of a room, two women watching him get teased by Esca, half naked, hard – and leaking already – fighting the urge to rock his hips. This time, he gasps, his groin tingling intensely. Yeah, he might have to think more on it later on, but right now, having women – rather than men – watching him turns him on instantly. He could definitely roll with that.

“Oh, I see...” Esca comments, obviously having observed Marcus' reactions. “I know some _ladies_ who would be more than happy to watch you. I'd make you undress in front of them. Everything off,” Esca describes, his fingertip lazily circling one of Marcus' hard nipples. “I bet they'd like your body almost as much as I do... Your wide shoulders, your chest, your abs...” Esca drawls, splaying his fingers over Marcus' stomach. “Can you picture it, Marcus?”

“Yeah...” he answers thickly, his cheeks beginning to burn.

The low rumbling sound of Esca's approving hum makes Marcus shiver.

“Should I tie you up? I know you'd like them to see you struggle in my ropes.” Esca pauses. “Or maybe not...” he muses, reconsidering. “Maybe I want to show them there's no need to restrain you, that you'll stay because you really love to submit to me...”

Marcus reviews the two options in his mind. Both are equally appealing; there's no wrong answer. Yet, he jumps at the opportunity to prove his devotion to Esca to these women. “No need for ropes. Not this time...” he breathes.

Esca doesn't reply. He pulls the sheet right off of his lover instead.

Startled, Marcus grasps handfuls of bedding – or is it the bathrobe, he cannot tell – flexing the muscles of his ass, finally unable to refrain from humping the cool air. As the movement pulls at his injury a little, Marcus realizes that he's grateful Esca shut down his first idea. There is great comfort in the fact that Esca knows Marcus' limits better than Marcus knows his own. He takes a deep breath and relaxes.

“Because they like what they see, they ask me if they can touch you,” Esca describes after a moment. “Do you want them to touch you?”

“If you want...”

“No. Only if you want...”

“Yes, let them touch me,” Marcus whispers, imagining slender, soft hands running over his body, with long nails that cut into his skin here and there.

“I won't let them touch your cock,” Esca murmurs a long minute later. “It's mine...” he growls, running the tip of his finger along the underside of Marcus' erection, from root to tip.

Marcus groans and bucks at the touch, the possessiveness in Esca's voice turning him on even more.

“I let them know you like your nipples played with. They're happy to make you squirm, pinching them, pulling them hard...” Esca continues, caressing his nipples as he speaks, the touch maddeningly light.

Marcus yearns for a firm touch, just one... _Please_. He's already a mass of longing, playing right into Esca's hands. It should be frustrating, but instead it's fucking perfect, because this is exactly what Esca wants him to feel, Marcus knows it.

“They really enjoy your reactions. Do you think we should show them how much of a pain slut you really are? Show them how hard it makes you to be slapped across the face?”

“Yes, please.” Marcus feels the ghost of Esca's touch on his cheek, and he leans into it, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. Marcus wants to beg for Esca to do as he just said; he bites his bottom lip and waits like a good slave, settling for imagining the sting of Esca's hand on his face.

“That's not enough. I know these women. I picked them especially for you. I know what they want: to see you bent over and whipped on that lovely arse of yours... Do you want me to be gentle and make it last, or do you want me to hit you as hard as I can and break you?”

Marcus is tempted to reply sarcastically; in what parallel universe would he want Esca to take it easy on him? “Gimme all you got...” Marcus replies, knowing that's what Esca wants to hear. It also happens to be God's honest truth.

“Bend over the table. I'm going to whip you with your own belt while they watch.” The words come out sharp, with an edge that makes Marcus wonder if he should get up and do as Esca just asked.

In Marcus' mind, the fantasy becomes more detailed; he's not in Esca's bedroom anymore, he's in the rec room, bending over the pool table, the still faceless women now sitting down, watching eagerly. He can picture Esca retrieving the belt from his discarded pants on the floor. He sees Esca getting ready to hit him. Marcus exhales and contracts the muscles of his ass like he might if this was really taking place.

“One... Two... Three...” Esca slowly counts, pausing between each word, giving Marcus time to bring old punishments to mind. “Don't try to hold back, Soldier, let it all out.”

“Yes, sir,” Marcus hisses, totally lost into the fantasy.

“Four... Five... Six...” Esca carries on. “Let them hear your screams. Seven... Eight... Nine... I beat you until your arse is covered with welts, bright red, and throbbing... Ten... Eleven... They notice you stay hard the whole time, fucking loving it and still offering your arse to me despite the pain...” Esca pauses, letting Marcus play the scene in his mind. “Twelve...” Esca growls into his ear. Marcus would have given a limb to feel the bite of that belt right now.

No more hits are announced by Esca for a long moment. “If I asked you to spread your arse cheeks so they can look at your hole, would you?”

“Yes,” Marcus replies immediately, finding the idea deliciously humiliating.

“I tell them you came from having your hole whipped once before... Will you let me whip your arsehole again?

“ _My_ asshole?” Marcus asks, with a frown. “No. Not mine. _Yours_. My asshole is yours to do as you wish. Yours to whip. Yours to fuck. Anything. I can't wait for you to fuck me, Esca,” Marcus tells him, frenzied with desire. “Can't fucking wait...”

There are no words coming from Esca for a while. Just his breath is audible.

“Open your eyes and look at me. Just _look_ ,” Esca murmurs eventually.

Marcus obeys, blinking a few times as his eyes adjust to the lighting in the bedroom. He looks.

Esca had shoved his sweatpants down over his own cock. He's stroking it as he watches Marcus' face, his eyes like gray flames, but for the coal-black of their enlarged pupils. Marcus has been told many times he was wanted, even loved, but there is nothing like seeing it, feeling it, straight from Esca's eyes.

“Say it again, Marcus,” Esca pants.

Too taken by the sight of Esca jerking off next to him, Marcus is slow to understand what Esca means.

“Tell me about your ass,” Esca repeats, breathing hard, and obviously getting very close to coming.

Marcus finally shakes himself out of his daze. “My ass belongs to you. I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck, yes,” Esca groans.

Esca's losing his shit fast, and it makes Marcus so happy, it's almost unbearable to witness it without being allowed to do the same. Esca's body starts trembling, and he tosses his head back and thrusts his hips forward. Marcus twists his handfuls of sheets.

Esca's hot cum splatters Marcus' hip bone. Marcus lifts his head to better see, as more of Esca's seed lands on him. He can feel it drip down, coating his side. He licks his lips, hoping Esca will make him clean his cock with his tongue.

Esca releases his softening member, and then drags two fingers through his own cum. “Want a taste?” he mumbles, showing his digits to Marcus.

“Yes,” Marcus rasps out, his cock throbbing in anticipation.

“Touch yourself. Make yourself come,” Esca commands, finally allowing Marcus release.

“Thank you,” Marcus whispers as he starts pumping his cock. Esca feeds him his fingers; Marcus sucks on them, and moans, already feeling the tendrils of his orgasm.

“When you're all better, I'm going to shag you, Marcus. I'm going to mark you, then I'll fuck your arse every which way I please,” Esca rumbles next to him. “You're going to love it.”

 _Fuck_. With shit like this coming out of Esca's mouth, Marcus is not going to last more than five seconds.

He tries not to buck, he really tries. He can't help it. He arches his back as pleasure floods his senses, the slight pain in his leg barely registering. He makes shapeless sounds, his lips still closed around Esca's fingers, his own cum spilling over his fingers after having splashed his chest and belly in long jets.

His fingertips and toes are still tingling when Esca presses his body against Marcus', throwing his arm around his middle, and sweetly nuzzling into his cheek with a contented sigh. Marcus savors the warmth of Esca's body, ultimately given the touch he craved moments earlier. He places his arm over Esca's, soaking it all up as he lays there, feeling satisfied and safe. Esca kisses his stubbled cheek, and it makes Marcus smile.

“That was... interesting,” Marcus mumbles.

“I thought you might like it. Are you still worried that you'll lose your masochistic side after you heal?” Esca asks, lifting his head to peer at his lover's face.

Marcus shrugs and sighs. “All I know is that I don't want to lose it.”

“You know, there was a point to what we just did,” Esca says.

Marcus huffs and smirks. “Another lesson?”

“Consider this: all I did was talk to you. You did the rest with your mind. Your _mind_ , Marcus, not your _leg_ ,” Esca insists.

“I know, but...” Marcus doesn't finish his sentence. He can't help being worried. If he loses that side of him, he would lose Esca too. _Fuck_.

“You told me about the timing, how you never craved pain before you got discharged,” Esca continues. “But I bet that if you think back on it, you'll find you had submissive tendencies all along, however mild. They simply developed and grew after you lost the excitement of the Marines and threw yourself into a relationship you knew – consciously or not – wouldn't last.”

“You really do think a lot about this...” Marcus comments, already making an effort to think back despite the weariness slowly settling over him.

He _did_ get a thrill when a girl would pin him down and ride him, as if using him to get off. He _did_ like love bites, the occasional enthusiastic slap on his ass and the way high heels sometimes dug into the back of his calves as he fucked. He'd always loved it when a girl would give him clear directions when he gave head. Yeah, being bossed around in bed always _did_ get him going.

It was only when he lost his source of adrenaline that these desires had morphed into something more intense, to the point he had to fulfill them. “Okay. But what if I'm allowed back into the Marines? What if getting that back ends up killing those desires?”

“So far, you've only seen a fraction of all the ways I can hurt you, right?” Esca asks, waiting for Marcus' nod before continuing. “Pain is only half of what I can give you... Think about that,” Esca whispers in his ear.

Marcus nods.

It must leave Esca dissatisfied, because he cups Marcus' chin to hold him in place as he stares into his green eyes. “I don't believe you'll change, but if you do change, I'm not going to dump you. I promise.”

Marcus cannot speak. He's grateful for Esca's kiss as tears rise to the surface after hearing Esca's words.

Marcus' stomach growls. They both burst out laughing.

“Sounds like someone's hungry. I'll fetch you some soup,” Esca announces, starting to wipe their mess with a sheet.

“I'm ready for something a bit more filling...”

“Alright, I'll make something for you.”

“I'm coming with you.”

“Are you sure? I'm just going to make you a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Yeah...” Marcus drawls. “I love to watch you cook.” Marcus spies the unguarded surprise on Esca's face, so he adds for good measure, “I love you.”

“Let's go, then,” Esca replies, Marcus rolling onto his side before slowly getting upright. Soon Esca is on his feet, his arm supporting his back. It'd been strange every time he sat up, but this time, Marcus feels a lot less dizzy.

“Ready?” Esca asks, his arm curled around his lower back. Marcus feels pretty good. He turns to Esca, nodding, before staring at his face, waiting.

Esca keeps a straight face for about two seconds before he cracks up, smiling as he looks into Marcus' eyes. “I love you too,” he says, leaning closer for a kiss.


End file.
